


Battlefront

by AJMcLeod, Embleer_Frith0323



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Alternate Universe - World War II, F/M, Hurt Dick Grayson, Secret Relationship, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27396001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJMcLeod/pseuds/AJMcLeod, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Embleer_Frith0323/pseuds/Embleer_Frith0323
Summary: When Dick Grayson and Artemis Crock-Grayson's clandestine honeymoon is interrupted, they expect the mission to infiltrate a top-secret Nazi base to go quickly. But as Shakespeare said, "The course of true love ne'er did run smooth." Can they both make it through?
Relationships: Artemis Crock/Dick Grayson
Comments: 34
Kudos: 39





	1. In The Mood

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there everyone!  
> @Embleer_Frith0323 and I were chatting and had the brilliant idea to collaborate on a work together. We're both really excited to share this with you all. Please enjoy our foray into the world of World War II espionage. 
> 
> Because I (AJ) have had issues with this in the past, I do want to be up front that this is an alternate universe. I think we kept the characters true to form and tried to stay true to the overall feel of the DCU. Really I just don't want a repeat of the incident where a reader got mad at me cause I put their favorite characters in a different setting, ye have been warned.
> 
> Love you all and we'd love to hear from you!

Artemis plopped bonelessly into her seat. If there was one word to describe her partner, Dick Grayson, it would be energetic. The man was a born performer and when coupled with his charm, who could say no? Which was how she’d ended up in a dancehall in Dublin. The jazz musicians had taken a break from playing and as such the dancers were given a reprieve to catch their breath. Dick had left to find a drink for them, leaving her to find a seat at a table. A glint of gold caught her eye. The ring on her hand was simple, a crowned heart held by a pair of hands. A fashion ring as a souvenir from time spent on the small island. At least if it weren’t for the words echoing in her mind.

_“Ego pronuntio nunc autem et uxor viro. In nomine patris et filii et spiritus sancti.”_

A champagne glass settled in front of her. “For you, Mrs. Grayson.” Dick kissed her cheek.

“Thank you, Mr. Grayson, too kind of you.” She winked at him as he sat next to her.

“You looked worried, not having second thoughts, are you?” He scooted closer to wrap an arm around her waist.

She smoothed the faded green fabric of her skirt. “Not exactly.”

His blue eyes bored into hers. “Arty, what’s wrong?”

“Did we rush into this?”

“You never know how much time you have on this Earth, and I want to spend as much of it with you as I can.” He carded his fingers through her hair. “Especially if you consider how dangerous our line of work is.”

“We can’t tell anyone.”

“Just because Colonel Trevor will have our heads if he found out, it doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy our time together.”

“Dick, please, it would end my career.”

“I know, and no one will find out from me. As far as everyone else on the team knows, we’re two good friends who happened to be on leave at the same time.”

She curled into his side. “Thank you.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Anything for you.”

Artemis drank from the crystal champagne flute in front of her, the day’s excitement catching up to her. “Let’s get out of here, hm?”

“And go where?” He arched an eyebrow but took hold of the hand she offered.

“I think you know where. If you’d rather carry me back when I’m half asleep, then we can by all means stay.”

He stood in a flash, his coat halfway on. “As tempting as carrying you sounds, we should head back to the hotel.”

*~*

Hand-in-hand, Artemis and Dick crossed the checkered marble floor of the Shelbourne Hotel and ascended the stairs to their room. She took a step to enter the room, when he surprised her by sweeping her off her feet.

“What are you doing?” She braced her arms around his shoulder and neck.

He covered her lips with his own. “Isn’t it tradition for a groom to carry his bride over the threshold?”

“This groom should have warned his bride before just picking her up. Especially since she can easily take down a man twice her size.”

Dick laughed and set her down while he closed the door. He leaned back against the wooden surface and took her hands. “True, but she wouldn’t be entering a hotel with him if she didn’t already trust him.”

She stepped closer, sliding her hands over his shoulders. “That’s the only thing that saved you, Grayson.”

He stood up straight and wrapped his arms around her waist. “The _only_ thing?”

“That and it would be a shame to deprive the world of your charm.” She leaned back, breaking free from his embrace and sauntered toward the bedroom of their suite. She paused at the door and gave a backward glance over her shoulder.

Dick darted after her, shedding his suit coat and loosening his tie as he stumbled across the sitting room.

A grin split Artemis’ face as she unfastened the top button of her dress.

His hands spun her to face him. Hunger burned in his clear blue eyes.

He kissed her, catching her bottom lip between his teeth.

She tangled her fingers in his hair as he walked her backwards toward the bed. The mattress caught the back of her legs and she fell, pulling him with her.

His fingers worked the glass buttons of her dress through their openings while she found the buckle of his belt.

Fire started in her belly, spreading warmth all over. This was it.

The telephone in the living room interrupted them with a shrill ring.

Dick shifted on top of her.

“Ignore it,” she whispered fisting her hands in his shirt.

“It could be important.”

“Everyone important knows you’re on leave. It’s probably the concierge making sure we had a good evening.”

The ringing stopped. “You’re right.”

She sucked in a breath as he trailed kisses down the side of her neck. “Of course I’m right.”

The phone started its bothersome ringing again.

Dick pushed himself up. “They’re not going to stop until we answer, are they?”

“At this rate, no. Best go answer it so we can get back to what we were doing.” She bit down a growl. If it was the gentleman at the desk, he was going to get a piece of her mind come morning.

Dick rushed into the sitting room, pushing a stray lock of black hair from his eyes. “Hello?”

Artemis propped herself up on her elbows. Dick’s tone was clearly annoyed when he answered, at least she wasn’t the only one.

“Colonel Trevor, I’m sorry, sir, I only just got back to my room.”

_Damn, there goes our leave._

“Yes sir.” Dick’s tone still held frustration, but it wasn’t as obvious now. “I understand, sir. I’ll be on the first transport in the morning.”

Artemis stood and moved to the doorway.

“Thank you, sir. Goodnight.” Dick settled the telephone back into its cradle.

“What’s wrong?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “They just got a major break in the experimentation case. He’s recalling everyone to the base.”

“Fantastic.” She leaned against the doorframe.

“At least we don’t have to leave until morning.”

“But it does mean I should give Zee a ring and warn her to expect a call.” Thankfully, Zatanna was a civilian who didn’t care if Artemis was seeing someone from her team…not that she knew Artemis was even _on_ a team.

“Make it quick, yeah? I still want to enjoy as much uninterrupted time with you as I can.”

She shivered at the timbre of his voice.

*~*

Artemis and Dick arrived at the team’s base of operations in London at tea-time the next day. She was immensely grateful they’d been able to eat lunch on the train. Facing a court martial over murdering a teammate in a fit of hunger induced rage was admittedly not high on her list of priorities. Letting Dick go off alone to gather intelligence ranked even lower. That was why they’d been recalled, she just knew it.

“Is it completely selfish of me to wish you weren’t so good at your job?” She leaned back against the bench in the underground station.

Dick held his hat in his hands. “If I weren’t, would I have even registered on your radar?”

“No. Doesn’t mean that I have to like it, though.” She folded her arms.

He slipped his hand into hers. “We don’t know for sure they’re sending me out there.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I was with this team for a while before you joined us, Dick. Colonel Trevor wouldn’t have called you back if he hadn’t planned on sending you out.”

The clatter of an approaching train drowned out anything he could have said.

Artemis stood, brushing the wrinkles from her skirt. “Ready to face the music?”

“No, not that it matters.” He brought her hand to his lips. “You’re still wearing your ring?”

“ _Your_ ring.” She held her hand up. “They don’t know it’s a wedding ring. It could have been from a beau, we can see people.”

“Just not each other.”

“It’s frowned upon. Though I have it on good authority that Colonel Trevor is involved with Diana Prince.” She rolled her eyes.

“I think the reason no one has said anything is because they don’t want to face her wrath. Themyscirians can be…intense.” Dick held his arm out for her.

“Have you met many of them?”

He shrugged. “My…foster…father knew a few. One threw a spear at his head once. Alfred was less than pleased at replacing the door.”

“Do you miss them?” She eased into an open seat when the train pulled away from the station.

“I—yes. Mostly Alfred and Jason. Bruce and I had a bit of a falling out before I left. I miss him, but I’m a little glad that I’m not in his shadow.”

“Big shoes to fill?”

“Bigger than you’d think.” He smiled.

They fell into a companionable silence for the remainder of the short trip.

“Westminster, Embankment, Black Friars,” the tannoy announced.

“Looks like this is us. Ready?” Dick held his hand out to her.

She held onto the rail as the train ground to a halt. “As I’ll ever be.”


	2. Gone Fishing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone!! <3
> 
> Dude, y'all, I spent more time researching for than writing this chapter, haha! There's been a lot to learn, and I'm not what you'd call dumb re: WW2. XD Hopefully my reading comprehension of the material at hand holds and the resultant product is tolerable!
> 
> Thanks to Aj_Mccleod for fronting this amazing project! You the beeesssttt~ <3
> 
> Much love to all and enjoy!
> 
> Xoxoxoxoxoxo,  
> EF~

**CHAPTER 2**

  
  


Dick shifted his weight in his chair, scoping the bullpen. It was a small gathering, with three fellow agents and one principal from Checkmate that he recognized, along with an assemblage of uniformed infantry standing at attention to the rear of the room. To Dick’s surprise, he recognized Cameron Chase, the present executive director of the Department of Extranormal Operations. The man stood aside the podium at the fore of the bullpen, the chalk and scoreboards just to his back. He fussed at the jacket of his tidy civilian suit. 

_What is the DEO doing here…?_ Dick wondered, keeping his features schooled as he took in the sight of the man he thus far was only familiar with through photographs, files, and reputation. He stole a glance at Artemis, who returned his gaze with a grim expression. 

This briefing was growing more and more serious — and more and more strange, Dick thought. If the British branch of Extranormal Operations was getting involved, the break that curtailed his and Artemis’ honeymoon would laugh in the face of any empirical explanation. 

Not to be unexpected, though, he realized, considering not only the increasingly disturbing nature of the enemy they fought, but the rumors circulating through the Allied troops in Europe, as well. Word of these rumors — which began as reports — eventually reached Checkmate’s ears through Colonel Trevor. The awful phantasmagoria in the tales made Dick’s blood curdle.

Entire troops turned to mounds of dust. Artillery instantaneously destroyed in flashes of light that left nearby soldiers blinded and scarred beyond recognition. Monsters that mangled entire platoons of men, seemingly impervious to gunfire and weaponry. 

Colonel Trevor had noted these rumors to Checkmate, but had also chalked such things up to battlefield psychosis and fear breeding hyperbole. Dick, however, was better versed in what horrors the war machine was capable of than any person in the room with him. He’d _seen_ it, firsthand, and _not_ with the separation of rules of engagement.

No. It wasn’t to be unexpected. Dick’s teeth clenched just to think about it.

He inhaled through his nose, subtly, again schooling his features. Moments of duress would concern his wife, and he didn’t wish to raise her worries to such an extent that it drew the attention of their fellow Checkmate agents and superior officers. 

The effort failed, however, as she glanced at him sidelong with one gray eye, barely shielded by the side-parted waves that framed her face. Any other might have missed his momentary rise in emotion — but not Artemis. Never Artemis.

He tapped his toe once. Their own devised code for “just swell.” The gray eye moved its gaze back to the front of the room.

Colonel Trevor entered the room, and as one, the hands of the infantrymen flew to their foreheads in a collective, crisp salute. Each Checkmate agent to a man (and woman) rose in respect, nodding to him as he made his way to the podium with Diana Prince beside him. The Themyscirian towered over Trevor, her very presence commanding immediate reverence from every individual in the room. 

Artemis had once said she was irritated by how easily and immediately Diana garnered the respect of the men in their present outfit, but she had equally expressed gratitude to her for helping to extend that respect her way, however grudging it might have been from some. Dick had reminded Artemis that Diana was nothing shy of an immortal warrior princess — and that Artemis had come from beginnings much more humble to emerge a redoubtable agent of a prestigious espionage organization by her own grit.

Compliments of that nature when they came from her male coworkers sometimes rankled with Artemis, but she had smiled when he told her that. Dick loved to make her smile.

“At ease,” Trevor said. “Have a seat, agents.”

The agents sat, while the soldiers relaxed their arms.

“Some hot intelligence has come to our attention from none other than Garbo himself,” Trevor began. “He hasn’t been able to follow up on this lead without potentially compromising himself, but he informed us yesterday evening via a dead drop that there has been talk of a particularly high-interest, clandestine project headed by none other than that psychopath Himmler.” The very atmosphere in the room shifted at the mention of this name, not one sound or motion necessary to indicate the change in energy. “This project is called _Sturm,_ and it is, when translated, said to be of pivotal import to a swift and absolute victory. A location that might be related to this project was also indicated — thankfully, the general whereabouts of this location have been provided.”

He reached up to unroll the map of Europe behind him, and indicated southern Germany. 

“This apparent location is a facility some sixty klicks south of Dachau,” Trevor continued. “The first step is going to be confirmation of this alleged facility, which will be accomplished by another dead drop from an external contact of Garbo’s. The next move will involve probing, which infantry on foot will accomplish. Following the probe comes reconnaissance, a duty that a team of army Rangers will fulfill. Once the facility has been appropriately mapped, the intel returned to us will pass into the hands of Checkmate agents, who will then infiltrate the premises and gather intelligence from within the facility. Anything about this supposedly pivotal _Project Sturm,_ we’re going to want to hear about it — and from what I understand, it’s been connected to these reports of decimated Allied troops in areas of Europe. Let’s connect the dots, shall we, ladies and gentlemen?” 

A hearty, “Yes, sir,” followed in unison. 

“Dr. Chase, as executive director of the English branch of the Department of Extranormal Operations, is here to explicate on the suspected nature of _Project Sturm,”_ Diana broke into the receding sound. “The floor is yours, Dr. Chase.”

Dr. Chase approached the podium at the front with a nod to Diana. 

“Thank you, Miss Prince,” he said, clearing his throat. “So, considering the stories we’ve been hearing from across battlegrounds in Europe, the general — and very watered down — hypothesis is that the Nazis are developing some highly advanced and exceptionally destructive weaponry. The nature of this weaponry thus far is unclear, but given the rumors, we felt it best that we offer our services on this operation. It is possible that the enemy has gained access to supernatural or extraterrestrial technology.” 

There was a smattering of snickers from the agents, that was quickly squelched by a glare from Diana. 

“Considering that I am from Themyscira, an Amazonian stronghold peopled by beings your lot have long considered to be merely legends, I would refrain from scoffing at whatever possible explanation is presented to you by Dr. Chase,” she stated into the at once resounding quiet. “This is, after all, _his_ area of expertise — maybe try to keep an open mind, hmm?”

Dick smiled a bit to himself, and noted that Artemis did the same beside him.

“Thank you, Miss Prince,” Dr. Chase said. “Yes, company, please keep an open mind. There’s always the possibility of a tangible, scientific explanation for these rumors — the power in question could be atomic, indicating that they have surpassed our own research, for instance. However, considering that the Nazis were also supposedly discussing seeking out the power of the Ark of the Covenant to aid in their war machine, let’s think about what else they might try to look for, however newfangled it might seem. There is, as she just stated, a legendary Amazon standing just to my left, after all, and although her existence has been kept profoundly secret from our enemy, it’s likely they know of other such logic-defying beings. Or civilizations, or other sources of power. Ones that are storied, to be sure, but also ones that might have been confirmed. That’s where our resources come in.”

Dick was pleased to observe a stoic acceptance of these resources as Chase detailed them, and focused his attention on the front of the room as the executive director of the DEO gave his presentation. Plenty of the technology in question might have seemed preposterous to most, but Dick had seen enough in his day to be anything but dismissive. 

Eventually, Colonel Trevor took back over the front to give assignments. 

“The Rangers reconnaissance team is in the process of being assigned to this operation,” he said, “and the gentlemen in the back comprise the troops that will probe. Congratulations, boys — this is a mission that could be of tremendous import, and as such, you comprise an elite unit. You’ve officially made your mamas and papas proud.”

There was a light chuckle, and a “Yes, sir.”

“Agent Harper, you’re in charge of dead drop pickup,” Trevor said. “Principal Agent Stein will have the details of your assignment.”

“Yes, sir,” Harper said with a brusque nod.

“The scouting team that will be sent out following recon will consist of Agents Bullock and Gardner. Crock, you’ll be in charge of communications, records, and filing for this mission.”

Dick bristled. He gritted his teeth, sitting on the urge to protest, knowing better than to take up for Artemis. He’d learned very early on in their working relationship that he’d “damn well better not.” He stole a look at his wife, and saw the silver spark of anger in her eye and the set of her jaw. 

“Excuse me, Colonel,” she said, “but I feel that my skill set would be better suited to infiltration. I played a vital role only months ago in _Operation Irene,_ in which my own expertise in lock-picking and cryptography ensured success —”

“Trust me, Agent Crock, I’m not blind to your accomplishments,” Trevor assured her. “However, my orders come from General Armstrong. We’re shorthanded with Dayton and Jordan on other assignments, and someone needs to run communications in the field and do the filing and records later on. General Armstrong maintained that it be you.”

Artemis slowly released a breath and nodded. “I understand, sir.”

“To that end, infiltration will fall to our circus boy — Agent Grayson, that’s where you’ll come in. You still a contortionist, acrobat and escape artist with a knack for lock-picking?”

Dick nodded, although his heart sank in dismay. _There goes all possibility of returning to our honeymoon…_ “Yes, sir.”

“Forgive me for interrupting again, Colonel, but shouldn’t Grayson have a partner on the inside?” Artemis queried. 

“Agents Bullock and Gardner will all be stationed outside the building for cover and rendezvous,” Trevor assured her. “This is a sensitive operation, Agent Crock. The fewer inside the facility, the safer. I trust you believe that Agent Grayson can handle himself.”

She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Dick wished he could reach over to her, to allay her justified anger in whatever way he could, and equally to assuage her worry. This secret relationship — and now secret marriage — business was much more difficult than he had originally given it credit for.

“Agents, report to Principal Stein,” Trevor said. “Soldiers, at ease. Return to your posts. This concludes this briefing — Dr. Chase, thank you for attending.”

The attendees dispersed, with Dick following Artemis’ swift departure into the lounge. He checked to ensure that Bullock and Gardner passed by to make their way toward Stein’s office, then approached Artemis where she stood by the Pavoni machine.

“Meetings like that render coffee a prerequisite for survival,” she growled. “As does glorified secretary work — last I checked, Gardner passed primary school and Bullock at least the seventh grade. Surely one of _them_ can enjoy the happy task of freezing their keisters off recording mission communications from up a tree somewhere.”

“Easy, Tigress,” Dick gently teased, nudging her aside. “Here, let me make the coffee — lest anyone else make the same mistake I did when we first met. Secretary Crock.”

Artemis softened and chuckled, a sparkle returning to her eye. “Secretary Grayson.”

He set the piston pump to work on the Pavoni, grinning at this double meaning, which would carry little implication to anyone walking by. 

It was surreal to think that this room was where everything began — where his _life_ began. It was the inception of his work with Checkmate, an opportunity he’d longed and toiled for since he was twelve years old.

Since Hitler’s “ethnic cleansing” thrust him away from the life that he’d known, his family, his parents. 

Two years of study and work after he left the States to join the war effort in England brought him into this very room. The room itself hadn’t changed much since that morning, and neither had Artemis, really. Her positioning now was strikingly similar to what it had been when he first encountered his fellow Checkmate agent — and now his wife.

He had walked inside out of a stormy, blustery morning and shaken out his umbrella to lean it against the wall by the coat rack in the entryway. Removing his coat and hat, he turned to make his way into the lounge — and laid eyes on the single most beautiful creature he’d ever seen on two legs. 

She stood leaning against the counter, pumping the Pavoni espresso machine, her face drawn into a mask of heavy concentration under her purple cloche hat. Blonde waves fell to her shoulders beneath its brim. A purple Kitty Foyle dress, likely crafted from a repurposed suit, graced her poised form.

She had turned to glance at him, revealing Asian features and gray eyes, her full lips a pop of red against her blonde hair and purple and white ensemble. Unable to help himself, he winked at her as he approached the counter.

She raised her brows, and returned her attention to the coffee, turning her back to him.

“There’s a spare cup of coffee here,” she said, glancing over her shoulder, her accent giving her away as American. “Would you care for it?”

“Yes, please,” he said with gusto, although he felt a bit silly now as he accepted the cup and saucer from her. There was no doubt that the beauty before him got hit on all the time, by the agents, other coworkers, men on the street, soldiers. Still, he wondered what brought an American girl overseas to become a secretary to an espionage operation based out of London. “Freezing out there.”

“That it is — certainly enough to make one think that hibernating animals might be onto something,” she agreed, her tone amiable enough that Dick felt a little more encouraged. She extended a hand to the dish of sugar cubes. “Sugar?” 

“Please,” he said, helping himself to a handful of sugar cubes that he plunked into the cup of coffee. He smiled at her over the rim of the mug. “By the way, we never properly greeted each other.”

She glanced at him. “Didn’t we?”

He shook his head. “What say I give fixing that a go?” Lowering his cup, he leaned against the counter. “Hi, sugar, are you rationed?”

Again, her brows lifted, and she at last faced him with an amused half-smile. 

“I regret to inform you that I go steady only with my work,” she told him with a chuckle. “But trust me, that’s _more_ than steady enough for me. By the way —” she tilted her head, “would you like some coffee with your sugar? I swear I can hear your heart racing from here.”

He grinned. “Sugar’s my weakness, among other things,” he said. “My… foster grandfather said that wartime sugar rations alone would improve my health.”

She shook her head. “I’m inclined to agree with him — and I doubt Principal Agent Stein would be too pleased to see you taking half the week’s allotment of sugar for one cup of coffee.”

“Be a doll and cover for me while I indulge in this here weakness of mine?” he asked. 

“I’ll consider it,” she said, by now holding her own cup of coffee and saucer. She sipped at it. “Coffee, as you can see, is mine. I prefer to make it myself because if I don’t, the coffee that gets made around here is nothing I’d call up to snuff.” She sipped again, and lowered the cup. “So you’re the new recruit, I’m guessing? The ace that Stein’s been talking about?”

Dick smiled at her. “Well, I don’t know about _ace,_ but I suppose so.”

“Agent Grayson, right?”

“Yep, that’s me.”

She smiled in return. “Hmm. You come with an impressive ledger — already your very young reputation precedes you.”

“Really?” he said. “Thank you.”

“Yeah. They’re going to eat you alive,” she said with a wink. “Better run along — you’ll be late for your first bullpen.”

“Before I run along,” Dick said, “if the coffee here ever doesn’t meet your standard, how about I take you out for a cup that does?”

“Why, Agent Grayson,” she said, her smile widening, “speaking like that, one might think you’re going fishing while you’re at work. I’d suggest you get moving before your grandstanding gets you in trouble.”

He set the cup down on the counter. “So with regard to palatable coffee… is that a yes?”

She shook her head, finishing and lowering her own cup. 

“So it’s a no?” he said.

She inclined her head and gestured. “Better scurry.”

He had made his way into the bullpen, greeted with the sight of the men who were to be his Checkmate coworkers from then on. No time to think about beautiful dames, Dick admonished himself, focusing now on what was at hand. Principal Agent Stein, the handler for their outfit, nodded to him. 

“Company, this is Agent Grayson,” Stein said as Dick walked to an open seat. “New recruit, straight off the train from Edinburgh, and not too long off the plane from the States before that. Grayson, as a new member of Checkmate, you’ll be considered a Pawn — with you in that ranking are Jordan and Gardner. Ascending the ranks, you have Dayton and Crock as your Rooks, Harper as your Knight, and Bullock as your Bishop. Obviously, as handler, I’m the principal agent — King, as far as Checkmate rankings go. Any questions?”

“No, sir,” Dick said. 

Just then, the secretary in the purple cloche hat entered the room. An armful of files graced one arm.

“Ah,” said Stein, accepting the files, then handing her a small ledger. “Thank you. Impeccable, as always.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, and came to stand in front of Dick. He rose as she held out the ledger.

“Thanks,” he said, opening it to peer inside.

She nodded. “You’re welcome, Grayson. I’m Agent Crock, by the way, Rook to this company. I’ve been assigned as your orientation liaison — any questions, you can bring them my way. After this meeting, I can show you around and get you familiarized with how we do things around here. All right?”

Dick _felt_ the heat rush to his face, even as his feet about gave out from underneath him. _Agent_ Crock? If there were a hole in the floor, he’d have happily buried himself in it and died of embarrassment. He nodded dumbly, even as a smile spread across Artemis’ features. 

“You can have a seat for now, Grayson,” she said, her voice full of humor, her smile mirthful, her eyes twinkling.

He returned the expression, now gone from humiliated to chagrined. “Yes, ma’am.”

Later, after he gushed a hundred sorries to her over his mishap, she would tell him that he wasn’t the first to mistake her for a secretary — but he _was_ the first to apologize to her for it.

Standing with her now, at the same counter that saw that first conversation, he added sugar to his coffee. She grinned, watching. 

“Careful,” she said, “I can hear your heart starting up that familiar sugar-addled banging… Not exactly good for subterfuge, Agent.”

He laughed. “Speaking of that. Ready to face the music?”

She nodded. “Ready.”

They made their way to Stein’s office, coffee in hand, not touching — but not needing to.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Let Me Call You Sweetheart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of learning their roles for the upcoming mission, Artemis remembers their first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> Here we go with chapter 3! I (AJ) want to apologize if I came off a bit strong in chapter 1. I do like comments, really. I hope you like it!!! 
> 
> Also Embleer_Frith0323 is like the best writing partner ever!!!!!!!  
> Anyway, without further ado, Chapter 3.

Artemis yanked her gloves on as she prepared to leave. Miffed only scratched the surface of the emotions burning inside her. She took a deep breath and put her irritation to the back of her mind. The lot had been cast, and she would fulfill her duty. Using the comb in her hat to secure it to her blonde waves, she started out the door. 

She took off across the mostly deserted street, heading for the secret rendezvous spot she and Dick had used since the start of their clandestine relationship. She’d make a break straight away. He’d move down the street a bit before jumping over a block and doubling back to the hole-in-the-wall alcove. As she waited, she removed the glove and twisted the _claddagh_ ring around her finger. It seemed small enough to keep the nerves at bay until Dick joined her.

They knew this would be part of their lives. No one knew they were together, so she couldn’t blame Colonel Trevor, or even General Armstrong, for sending in the best agent for the job. She just hadn’t expected it to come about so soon. 

She paced as her nerves continued to grow. _Where is he?_ A couple more circuits around the small area and a high-low whistle pierced the air. She wet her lips and returned the low-high counterpart to their signal. 

Dick stepped through the opening, removing his hat as he did so. “Doesn’t look like we’ll be getting back to that honeymoon anytime soon.”

“No, it doesn’t. And we’re off first thing in the morning.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat soothed her.

He wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in warm safety. “We knew this would happen eventually.”

“It’s been a day. Just over twenty-four hours of being married…kinda takes the ‘eventually’ out of it. I wish you didn’t have to go so soon.”

He slid his hands down her arms, intertwining their fingers. He kissed her knuckles. “Believe me, this is the last thing I want to do. But it could help end the war. Then we won’t have to hide.”

He was right of course, there was no argument about it. Still, it didn’t mean she was happy about being stuck as a glorified secretary. 

“From the sounds of things, we’ll be in Austria for a few days before the mission starts.” Dick situated his hat on his head again, the brim casting shadows over his blue eyes. 

“We should pack a bag to be safe.” Artemis tugged her glove back on. 

He cracked a smile, something that came so easily to him. 

“Your place or mine?”

“I technically left my things at your place. But I doubt evening dresses and lingerie would be appropriate for an undercover mission.” She slipped her hand into his. 

“Wouldn’t want Bullock or Gardner getting the wrong impression.”

A shudder worked its way up her spine at the thought. “Knowing those two they’d think I meant it for them. Honestly, they are the most narcissistic men I’ve crossed paths with.”

“They haven’t…”

Artemis waved a hand in dismissal. “They’re both boneheads. I don’t even give them the time of day.”

“I’m glad you gave me the time of day.” He led her down the street toward his flat.   
“Best bad decision I’ve ever made.” She grinned up at him. 

Dick gasped in mock offense. “Me? A bad decision? My pride may never recover.”

“I doubt that, I see the way the _actual_ secretaries look at you.”

“But I only have eyes for you,” he whispered before kissing her lips.

She swatted at his shoulder when he pulled away. “Such a sentimentalist.”

“That’s what won you over, if I’m not mistaken.” He stopped outside a shop and pulled the key from his pocket.

*~*

The coffee cup clattered against its saucer. “Are you out of your mind?” Artemis hissed, fury tinting her vision red.

“Why not? After that mission last month, can you really deny the attraction?” Dick swirled a spoon in his cup. 

She’d only agreed to have lunch with him because it was a public place. Now here he was ruining her calm afternoon. “That’s not the point, Agent Grayson.”

A smile split his features. “And what _is_ the point, Agent Crock?”

“That my career, the one I worked so hard to get, could be over if anyone found out.” She bounced her foot in the air to work out some of her frustration.

“So we won’t let anyone find out.”

The crack in her defenses was growing by the second. That disarming grin of his, how was she supposed to resist something like that? She chewed on her lip, weighing the decision.

“You don’t outrank me anymore,” he offered.

She could just imagine a halo gleaming over his head. “Fine, but this stays a secret.”

He pressed a hand over his heart. “On my honor.”

“When and where?” 

“Leave that to me. And on that note, we should get back to work.”

Not even a week later, he surprised her on the way out the door. 

“Cross the street, and turn left. When you see an opening in the wall, duck inside. I’ll whistle to announce my arrival,” he whispered in her ear.

Curiosity knit her brows together. What was he playing at? 

She trusted him with her life, so she followed his instructions only to find herself in a small alcove. She tapped her foot impatiently while waiting for him to show up. _Whatever he wants to show me had better be worth it._

Artemis froze when a high-low whistle echoed off the building.

Dick ducked through the opening, a grin on his face. “Artemis. I’m glad you came.”

“What’s going on, Dick?” She folded her arms.

“The date you promised me.” He held his arm out for her. “Are you hungry?”

She slipped her arm through the crook of his elbow. “Starving, as a matter of fact. Where are you taking me?”

He pulled the brim of his hat down. “You’ll see. It’s a surprise.”

“Would now be a good time to mention that I really don’t like surprises?” She raised an eyebrow.

“This is a pleasant one and the likelihood of us getting caught are slim.” He patted her hand. “You’ve trusted me to complete missions with far more at stake.”

She took a deep breath. “Well, when you put it that way…”

“Down here.” He turned down an alley.

_Here’s hoping all that trust hasn’t been misplaced._  
Dick jumped up and pulled down a ladder for the fire escape.

“A fire escape?” She glanced from him to the rusted iron and back. “Please tell me this is a lark and you’re taking me somewhere else?”

He stepped behind her guiding her forward. “It will be worth it, I promise you.”

His voice and touch sent shivers down her back. Every nerve felt like a live wire at his proximity. Nodding, she took hold of the ladder and hoisted herself up.

“All the way to the top.” He called after her.

“Wait until I’m on the landing before you come up,” she said over her shoulder. While he wasn’t as crass as Bullock or Gardner, she still didn’t want him to catch sight of her unmentionables. 

“As my lady commands.” He saluted, averting his gaze.

Once she was on the landing, he clambered up so they were on even footing. The journey of climb-wait-climb-wait continued until they reached the top. 

Artemis’ gaze flicked over the rooftop. A candelabra decorated a table set for two. Dick led her to the table where a man in a black tuxedo pulled a chair out for her. “This is...unexpected.” She settled into her seat.

“But the good sort of surprise, right?” He sat across from her.

The waiter, at least she supposed that’s what the man in the tuxedo was, poured two glasses of white wine before disappearing and returning with plates of food.

“It’s nothing fancy, what with rations and all, but it was the best I could do.” He smiled as she placed her napkin in her lap.

“ _You_ made this?”

His blue eyes grew wide. “Gracious no, my idea of a meal is cereal most days. I pulled some strings to make sure we had something palatable.”

A snort of laughter broke free from her lips. “Thank you for that. My flatmate would appreciate it if I didn’t eat our week's rations when I get home.”

Their conversation flowed easily over dinner. Once the dishes were cleared away, Dick stood and held his arm out to her.

“Now where are we going?” She stood and faced him.

“A stroll in the moonlight. I hear exercise is critical in helping digest one’s food.” 

Her hand found his and she intertwined their fingers. “Better for staying close, don’t you think?”

They walked in silence to the far side of the building, breathing in the cool night air until Dick stopped at one corner.

“You can see all of London from up here.” 

She poked his side. “And the thousands of barrage balloons, too.”

He turned to face her, sweeping the blonde waves from her cheek. 

Her eyes darted from his eyes to his lips as he leaned in and kissed her. She’d been kissed before, by romantic partners, by targets, even by Dick himself, but this was different. _This_ kiss set her stomach fluttering with butterfly wings.

He leaned back and turned away. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want you to think that’s all I’m after.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

Heat crept up her neck. “You’re still standing, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but what—?” 

She fisted her hands in his lapel. “Don’t you think I can thwart unwanted advances?”

He let out a breath. “Of course.”

She winked at him as he leaned in again, capturing her lips with his. Somewhere nearby a gramophone crackled to life. 

“I think we may have an audience.” Artemis bit her lip.

“I don’t mind if you don’t.” Dick winked at her. He slid an arm around her waist, holding the other one as they swayed to the strains of “Let Me Call You Sweetheart.”

“You’re such a sentimentalist.” She whispered laying her head against his chest.

*~*

Artemis followed Dick into his cramped flat. He claimed he didn’t need much space, but this stretched the limit of cozy.

“Home, sweet home.” He bent to pick up his suitcase from where he’d tossed it earlier that day.

“Be it ever so humble.” Artemis sat on the rickety bed. “Do you have to repack for this mission?”

“Since I took my fancy clothes, too, yes.” Dick set the case on the bed. “It shouldn’t take too long. Lots of black for recon.”

“Yes, we want to make sure you get out in one piece.” She winked, bobbing her foot.

“Exactly.” He switched out the tuxedos for plain dark clothing. “Do we need to worry about Zatanna knowing our secret?”

“She works as an overnight ward clerk at the hospital. She shouldn’t even be home.” Artemis shrugged and picked up her bag from the floor.

“And on the off chance she _is_ home?”

“She covered for us while we were in Ireland, remember? Come on, let’s switch out my clothes so we can enjoy what semblance we have left of our honeymoon.” She kissed his cheek and darted out the door.

Tomorrow would be here soon enough. When the sun rose, they’d have to hide their relationship. She wanted to cherish loving him openly while she could, and she intended to do just that.


	4. Cook with Gas

**CHAPTER 4**

  
  


Artemis curled closer into Dick’s side with a sigh, nuzzling his chest. He kissed the top of her mussed hair, then stretched a bit, careful not to disturb his wife. He let go a sigh of his own, wishing that their window of opportunity wasn’t so tight — that they were still in Ireland, looking at a week of uninterrupted leave. But this was the hand they were dealt, and they had to make the most of it. 

Dick could have rested here with Artemis, relishing the fabled afterglow until the trumpets blasted the arrival of Judgment Day — however, and he groaned to realize it, the clock was just striking the hour. Meaning…

“Hmph. Time to mosey, I suppose,” Artemis grumbled, noting the time. 

Dick reluctantly slackened his hold on her, and she sat up, taking one moment to reach her arms over her head. She gave a satisfied sound as her back popped. 

“Whoever said Teddy Roosevelt was ‘Ol’ Rough and Ready’ clearly never met you,” she said, smiling over her shoulder at him as she stood. Dick grinned at her, allowing himself one more stretch before he rose to start getting dressed. 

“I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or a complaint,” Dick said as he stepped into his trousers.

“That’s a compliment,” Artemis said fervently, catching him by the front of his undershirt before he had time to get his arms through the sleeves of his Oxford. She pressed her mouth to his, finishing the kiss with a pull at his lower lip. She lingered against him, laying her chin on his chest a bit. It was all Dick could do not to get all _rough and ready_ again, with his wife’s body, clad only in a bra and half-slip, pressed to him as she was. 

“And speaking of that, Agent Grayson,” she continued, “you’d better _keep_ that nickname all the way through this mission — because we’ll have a _lot_ of unfinished business waiting for us when we get back.”

“True,” said Dick, “I never _did_ get to finish that ice cream cone back in Dublin —”

He laughed as she playfully clipped the back of his head. Abruptly, he sobered. He caught her hand, and held it to his chest a moment, going quiet. He rested his forehead against hers. 

“What is it?” Artemis asked. 

“Just…” He exhaled. “This — this mission, it’s… something I’ve waited for for _years._ I counted the months — then the weeks, and then the _days_ — until I turned eighteen, and then I couldn’t get out of Wayne Manor fast enough to hop a plane to England to join the war effort. And every hour I’ve spent here, I’ve spent with one goal — to stick it to the Nazis the hardest I could so I could do my part to put an _end_ to their war machine and try to find my parents.” He paused, a hard frown knitting his brows together. “And — it’s not just about my parents now, Artemis, or about me and what happened at the circus, or even everything Haly had to go through to protect me and the others that were left… it’s about all those people, all those others that Hitler’s deemed _racially unfit_ for his new Germany, that are even now being rounded up to have God-knows-what happen to them. The stakes have always been high, here, but they’ve only gotten higher since I started working with Checkmate.”

Artemis nodded somberly, listening without speaking.

“And now… I just…” Dick broke off a moment, then sighed, and moved away from Artemis to hurriedly button his shirt and throw on his tie. “...I just want to be in Ireland with you. I just want to go for walks, and take you dancing, and glut on ice cream, and…” He shook his head. 

Artemis pulled her own blouse on, inclining her head with a sympathetic look.

“Dick,” Artemis said gently, “I understand how you feel. Really, I do. I would love nothing more than to be back in Ireland with you, too — our honeymoon was only supposed to be a week and we were granted _leave,_ for Heaven’s sake.” She drew a Nylon stocking up over one extremely well-formed leg, fastening the garter. “But… like you said, these stakes just keep getting higher and higher, and for as short as a week might seem, it’s an eternity in wartime —”

He smiled. “Oh, that’s not all I’m saying. It’s part of it, of course, but…” 

He paused, considering his words. 

There was so much to pack into what he told her next that it felt hopeless to even attempt it. The fact was that Dick had gone crashing head over heels for Artemis from the very second he first saw her, dressed in her purple and white dress and leaning against the coffee counter in the lounge. He had given up his initial fancy as an entirely uncalled for dead end, but he was surprised when Artemis herself actually resurrected his offer for a cup of coffee.

One sleepless night after zero dark-thirty, Dick had risen from his bed in his flat, gathered up his gym bag, and headed to Checkmate’s training studio in the lower levels of the London headquarters. Nights like these had proven that there was no sense in lying in bed, trying to rest, but he found that working his racing mind and restless body into a good, sweating fatigue was quite effective. So off he went on foot, unlocking the door to the gym and entering. He was surprised to find the lights on — and even more so when he saw Artemis, dressed in men’s exercise clothes, training on one of the heavy bags in the boxing ring in the back of the room. 

She halted and jerked in place to face him, her chest heaving, her damp hair pulled into a braid that trailed midway down her back. Her arms, gloved at the hands and exposed under the sleeveless men’s exercise shirt, were contoured with lithe muscle, the legs reaching from beneath the shorts the same. She straightened, and issued something like an irritated huff as he froze at the threshold.

“Sorry,” he said awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt or anything.”

“Agent Grayson,” she said, her tone a little short, but not wholly unfriendly. She tore at the lace of one boxing glove with her teeth to loosen it. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

He rubbed at the back of his neck, then shrugged. “Can’t sleep. I’m here because exercise helps with that. May I be bold enough to ask you the same question?”

“I’m here now because it’s not the most convenient to train at normal hours alongside a bunch of scoundrels who just want to try catching glimpses of my unmentionables,” she stated plainly. She started undoing her handwraps. “Not to mention those who are a little less forward, but who still verbosely find it unwomanly for a cute young girl like me to be partaking in such scandalously masculine activities as _exercising.”_

Dick snorted. “What’s unwomanly about it? My mom could’ve destroyed any guy who looked at her sideways and she was enough of a lady to have tea with the queen without so much as a second of etiquette training beforehand.” 

Artemis looked at him as though surprised, then laughed.

“Those guys are a bunch of Neanderthals,” Dick said. “You shouldn’t have to train after midnight by yourself because the rest of the world hasn’t caught up to you yet.”

Artemis eyed him a moment, then sighed as she sat down to start unlacing her boxing shoes. “Well. That sentiment is appreciated, Agent Grayson, but I’d also prefer it if it didn’t leave this room.” She wormed her lip, frowning as she reached for the bag that held her gear. “It’s a nice thought, and I’m glad to hear you feel that way, but… Taking up for me only takes away from what little respect I might have.”

Dick nodded. “It’s not really in my nature to sit back when someone needs taken up for, but… I’ll do my best, Agent Crock.”

Artemis stared hard at him. “I mean it, Grayson. Trust me, if you start fighting my battles for me, it’s only going to make me look as weak as what they already think I am.”

Again, he nodded, and gave a slight bow. “I understand. I will do my utmost not to make like a white knight every time some guy acts like a cad.” He inclined his head, observing her as she continued removing her boxing gear. “You know, you don’t _have_ to pack it in just because I interrupted you. You can keep working, I promise not to get in your way or anything.”

She looked up at him, and gave him a skeptical half-smile. “You sure you’re not just here to tell the guys that you caught sight of my undergarments?” 

Dick raised his right hand. “Scout’s honor.” Lowering his hand, he added, “And anyway, I would never. My mother raised me better than that.”

Artemis gazed at Dick, unspeaking, seeming to consider him. 

“I would believe that,” she said eventually, then got back to her feet. “Well, Grayson, would a few rounds of sparring be sufficient to help you find sleep before we convene upstairs at 0700?”

He smiled. “Sure. Sounds swell. What discipline will we be adhering to, Agent Crock?”

She cracked a half-smile with a wicked quality that made Dick’s face go warm. 

“All of them, Agent Grayson,” she said, backing into the ring. “Why don’t you suit up and meet me here?”

He nodded, oddly exhilarated, and rushed to change.

He could imagine that the other agents refused to spar with Artemis due to her sex, assuming such a thing to be brutish and hardly a level playing field. Dick, however, had the distinct impression that to spar with Artemis was a privilege the others lacked the courage and open mind to accept. It was plain just from the brief glimpse of her movements around the heavy bag that not only did Artemis know her way around a boxing ring, but that she doubtless leveled any playing field she stepped onto. Something about the energy he sensed in her told of a tireless strength that founted from deep within, one that was not merely physical, but drew equally from the fathoms of an indomitable spirit. 

She stood at the far end of the ring, her hands wrapped but not gloved, her feet bare when he returned. Dick had himself remained in his stocking feet for the purpose of tapping into the multitude of martial arts that Bruce had taught him, many of which involved striking with all limbs. Preferring Escrima, he carried his Kali sticks. He was pleased to see that Artemis, where she stood, held a _hanbo_ in a ready position.

He climbed into the ring, and grinned at her. “I honor you, fair opponent, and promise —”

“That you won’t go easy on me,” she interrupted with a wink. “I honor you, Grayson. Now. Let’s spar.”

He grinned, and got into position. “Let’s.”

If he had anticipated Artemis’ skill set before entering the ring, he still might not have been prepared for what he met in the gym that night. Dick had learned from the man who was arguably among the best, if not _the_ best, in the world — the Great Bat of Gotham, the Dark Knight, _the_ Batman himself. And yet he found himself panting and sweating just to vie for the upper hand as he and Artemis danced around each other, tapping and moving, rushing and retreating.

“I don’t see this ending well for me, Agent Crock,” Dick said after a time spent in this treacherous waltz. “So if I wind up dead on the canvas, please remember me fondly when I’m gone and dictate my will, if you would. I’m leaving everything to the fern I’m attempting to keep alive back in my flat.”

Artemis laughed, genuinely and with feeling. He was gratified to see that she at least was as out of breath as he was. “Well, thus far only two of our Checkmate fellows have sparred with me, Agent Grayson, and you’ll be pleased to know you’ve at least lasted longer than both.”

“Let me guess — Bullock and Gardner?” 

“Close —” she slipped left, avoiding his right Kali stick, “Gardner and Dayton. They assured me, however, that they were merely sandbagging when I dropped them.”

“What an enormous blow to their equally enormous egos,” Dick said, then rushed toward an opening. He grazed her, but paid for the point when she suddenly dropped into a low-spinning sweep kick that took his feet right out from under him. He somersaulted backward to right himself into a squat, his attempted mid-level strike checked deftly by the _hanbo._ Tumbling to his right, he got back to his feet.

“Cooking with gas, Agent Crock, as always,” he said with a grin.

She returned the expression. “As are you, Agent Grayson. Credit where it’s due.”

They continued in this, breaking only every three minutes as dictated by an egg timer, until they finished twelve rounds. By that time, both were soaked in perspiration, and Dick had an impressive, already forming bruise where Artemis had connected a low side kick to his thigh. They sat on the bench a while after, sharing water and catching their breath. Eventually, they dispersed to change, reconvening at the exit.

“Can I walk you to your flat?” Dick asked, opening the door and hitting the lights. “Although… I think maybe you ought to walk me to mine.”

Artemis laughed, securing the door behind them. “Rest assured, Grayson, your virtue will be safe in my capable hands. How about we phrase it as walking each other home — your flat isn’t far from mine, after all.”

“Compromise accepted,” he told her, and held out his arm. 

She smirked, but took it, and they made their way up the street.

“So where’d you study all those martial arts?” Dick asked as they walked. “I’m assuming you’ve traveled a fair bit.”

“What makes you say that?” she asked with a chuckle.

“Well. American girl in London, half-Vietnamese, speaks ten languages, can hand my little fanny to me like it’s nothing… Just curious, that’s all.”

She laughed. “You make it all sound so grand. But you first, Agent Grayson. I’ve never seen a cadet turned Checkmate Pawn that’s so well-versed in martial arts.” 

Dick smiled at her. “Nothing overly enthralling there. My foster dad is a bit of an aficionado of martial arts, and he taught me. Considering… the path that brought me here, I had a lot of anger that I found channeled itself well into the study. I applied myself pretty wholeheartedly.”

“I read your file,” Artemis said with a musing expression. “It wasn’t very specific, but it mentioned you were something of a target in Germany before you were brought back here?”

“...Kind of,” Dick said. “I was born in the States, although my mom’s family was Romani, originally from Southern Europe somewhere. My family and I did the trapeze act in Haly’s Circus — our European tour brought us to Germany back in ’34. We were set to be there a while, and…” He paused. “The roustabout — Zucco was his name — gave our names to Hitler’s people, along with those of the other Romani family that did the vaulting routine. I’ll never know or understand why.”

Artemis slowed her pace, frowning up at him.

“They came late at night — I was asleep, until I woke up to my dad just yanking me out of bed. I had no idea what was going on — there was so much _shouting._ My dad tried to shield me from what was happening the best he could, but I still saw more than what he wanted me to.” He took a breath, and walked in silence a moment. “My mom and dad shoved me into the owner — Jack’s — trailer,” he went on, decelerating to match Artemis, “and he had me hide in this hidden compartment in a bench where he kept the safe with the circus’ earnings in it. The German soldiers shook that bench, hit it, picked it up and dropped it, pushed it — and I just had to stay as silent as I could and pray the top wouldn’t bust off so they wouldn’t find me in there. The whole time… I barely even knew what was happening. No one could tell me anything — it all just happened so _fast.”_

Artemis nodded wordlessly.

“They tied Jack up, but thankfully they didn’t know he was something of an escape artist himself. He got out of the ties and ended up dragging me inside that bench to the nearest town while the Nazis lit up the entire camp. By the time Jack got me to something like safety, they’d taken my parents and the Zimas, along with some of the circus members who’d stood up to them, like Samson and Harry… and they’d shot some of the others. Jack never did tell me who.”

“Wow,” Artemis said. “ So _that’s_ where your anger came from, huh.”

Dick nodded. “Jack was later able to get me out of Europe on a boat with Bruce, my foster father,” he said. “And… after that, I kept my eye on the news and just waited to turn eighteen.”

“I’m so sorry,” Artemis told him. “About your family, the circus… That was your whole life, wasn’t it?”

“It was.”

“Were you ever able to find your parents?” she asked.

Dick shook his head. “But I’m going to. And the Zimas. Harry and Samson. I’ve sworn it — that if it’s the last thing I do on this earth, I’ll see it done.”

“If at any point I can help,” Artemis said, “I will.”

There was a quality in her voice — the steady, solid fervency in its tones — that settled something in Dick that had long troubled him. It was as though there was a _hurt_ somewhere inside him that stung incessantly, that was at last soothed by these words. It wasn’t _gone,_ but it was quieted, calm for the time being. He smiled down at her.

“Thank you, Agent Crock,” he said, and meant it. “Now. Your turn.”

She shook her head. “Well. I am, as you put it, fairly well traveled — but not for any particularly good or beneficent reason. My father and mother were involved in the same trade, and it took them _all_ over the globe. My sister and I didn’t have a lot of choice other than to just go along. I can’t tell you how much time we spent belowdecks on seedy boats with only each other and the rats for company.”

Dick nodded, now listening to Artemis’ tale.

“I suppose I should just be up front with you about who my father is,” she continued with a sigh. “Even low-level sleuthing within Checkmate would turn it up, considering he’s frequently a target of theirs… well. Ours.”

Dick looked at her in interest. She looked up at him with a half-smile.

“My father is Lawrence ‘Crusher’ Crock. Sportsmaster,” she said.

He felt his brows lift. “The assassin and mercenary?”

“The same.”

“I didn’t even think to tie your last names together,” he said. “But I think I’m understanding how you came to be such an ace — I take it he taught you?”

She gave him a surprised look. “...That’s not normally the response I get from people who learn that my last name is, in fact, a direct tie to a killer-for-hire.” She sighed. “It’s bad enough I’m a woman playing in the Boys’ Club that is Checkmate. But when they realize I’m the daughter of a deadly, wanted criminal…” She shook her head. “I might as well turn in all rights to trust, acceptance and respect on the spot.”

“They should recognize that you aren’t your family,” Dick said with feeling. “You made it into Checkmate — and got promoted to Rook — for a reason, Agent Crock. I can’t imagine it’s because of any ill intent or murderous tendencies.”

“You’re awful trusting of me, Grayson,” she said lightly. “But… you’d be surprised at the conspiracy theories the others cook up in their free time.” She exhaled. “What I wouldn’t give for that kind of creativity. But… I guess I can’t blame them. I suppose I might not trust me, either, in their position.”

“Well, that’s not fair,” Dick told her. “In my experience… parents kind of exemplify two things. What you want to be, or what you don’t want to be, and generally, that’s going to shape how you live your life. And honestly, what you’re doing now couldn’t be more different from Lawrence ‘Crusher’ Crock’s life’s work.” He gave her a gentle nudge. “And I think that stands for something.”

She was quiet a moment, and then she smiled up at him. “Thank you, Grayson.”

“You can call me Dick — at least until tomorrow morning,” he told her, cracking a smile.

She laughed. “All right, then. Dick.”

“So you said your mother was in the same trade?” 

“Yes, and I learned from her, too… including that of my favorite art that I don’t advertise very often, that being archery,” Artemis said. “Although… my mother fell from a roof some years ago and broke her back. She survived the fall, but… she lost the use of her legs after. It’s how she retired from the life, actually, and how we wound up back in the States together. She’s still in Gotham City, in fact.” Artemis was silent, watching the ground in front of them, before saying, “I write her every week.”

“What happened to your sister?”

“She’s running in a lot of the same circles as my father, from what I understand,” Artemis said. “Last I checked, she was using the name Cheshire and was seen most recently in Russia. I… haven’t spoken to or heard from her in years.”

“That’s got to be hard,” Dick told her. “I miss my foster brother, and I barely got to know him before I left for England.”

Artemis nodded. “I try to keep up on her the best I can through Checkmate. But… yes. It can be hard from time to time.”

They had reached Artemis’ flat, and she withdrew her arm from Dick’s to produce her keys from the pocket of her coat. 

“You know,” she said, gazing up at him, “this is probably one of the more… soul-baring conversations I’ve had in quite some time. I hope you realize that it’s not a common thing for me to be such an open book.”

“Nothing you told me tonight goes beyond the two of us,” Dick assured her. “And after the circles you danced around me back there? I _think_ I can promise that — strictly for the sheer terror of what you might do to me if I didn’t keep my word.”

She laughed. “I think how you’ve handled yourself on the field has already proven you to be fairly trustworthy, Dick-Until-Tomorrow-Morning.” She paused. “Although I suppose it _is_ tomorrow morning. Anyway, Agent Grayson, I was thinking more…” Again, she paused, apparently thinking. “If talking to you comes so easily for me, I may as well accept that cup of coffee from you.” She gestured. “As coworkers, mind, but… Consider the offer accepted.”

Dick grinned at her. “Then I’ll arrange for that to happen at the earliest opportunity. Not to seem eager or anything.”

“Such eagerness is unbecoming of a Checkmate agent,” she admonished lightly. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Agent Grayson.”

“Good night, Agent Crock,” he said, and then as she shut the door to her flat behind her, he all but floated back to his own home.

Recalling this night where he stood in Artemis’ flat nearing half a year later, and returning to his prior thought, Dick continued, “When I think about all this, it also makes me realize that my mission has only _grown_ since I met you. There are so many ugly things in this world, Artemis, you and I both know this a little too well — but being with you reminds me that there are things I still want to fight for and protect.”

Artemis smiled, then approached him to finish knotting his tie. “I repeat — you _are_ Checkmate’s resident sentimentalist. But… Same here, Dickie.”

He kissed her then, long and hard, pressing his hand to the small of her back to draw her as close to him as he could before breaking away.

“And we’re officially going to be late,” Dick announced, placing his hat on his head. 

“Well, in the words of Harper, hot diggity dog,” Artemis chuckled, tugging on her gloves. “Let’s get hopping, then, so we’re _not_ late.”

  
  


~*~

  
  


Postponed honeymoons and growing missions seemed spectacularly uncomplicated now, Dick thought some weeks later as he frantically wormed his way in a battle crawl through a stony tunnel. The corridor cut through the underbelly of a massive building that rose in the woods sixty-four klicks southeast of Dachau in the south of Germany. A thunderous pulse rocked the foundations of the compound, shivering pebbles and dust loose from the craggy ceiling to cake his hair and burn his eyes. He fought the need to cough, his esophagus rocking in his throat, and pulled himself forward. 

On the opposite side of the grate ahead of him was another hallway, a concrete block of a corridor with more doors that led, he hypothesized, to cells and labs on either side. He paused in his movement through the tunnel, listening through the vacuum tube device in his gear for any nearby personnel. It was early morning — from what recon had indicated, the time of lowest foot traffic within this complex. Although security was run by what comparatively was a skeleton crew, it was still disconcertingly thick with guards, officers, and a sizable team of scientists — even if Dick had the feeling that these crews were occupied with the crisis at hand.

It had all come about so quickly — the first hall that Dick had slowly made his way down was nondescript for the most part, consisting primarily of a control room, nap rooms, and a lounge. The next hall proved curious — a home to what seemed to be stockrooms. Shelves within were full of medical supplies, plenty of which Dick recognized. Deeper forays into these stores uncovered refrigerated areas full of other ostensible medical components he distinctly did _not_ recognize. Aside from a plethora of blood bags (potentially less strange if this building was, in fact, nothing more nefarious than a medical lab), there were vials upon vials of different liquids with varying labels, all lined up like little soldiers at the ready and meticulously organized. Dick had photographed everything that he came across, and pinched the slightest samples of each liquid as quickly as his fingers would allow. A scientist — identifiable by his gear — entered while Dick was in the refrigerated area of one storeroom, and he wrestled himself into a flat plank beneath the lowermost shelf against the back of the refrigerator, his camera and pack pushed up to rest at the crown of his head, his knees and elbows bent and pressed to the ground to fit in the tiny space. He held his breath as the scientist entered the refrigerator, swearing in German about what idiot had left the door open, and stood at the shelf a moment. There was the tinkling of glass as Dick focused hard on the man’s shoes, counting backward from one hundred to avoid breathing, until he was finally left alone under the shelving.

He squeezed his way out, and assessed the shelves. Three of the vials labeled _SF38_ — _S,_ Dick thought, _Sturm? —_ had been taken. Now determined to find and catch up with the scientist to follow him to wherever he was going, Dick hurried out of the refrigerator and storeroom, and cut a slow, painstaking path to attempt catching up with the man. The blueprints of the building given to him by the recon team offered a handful of concealment options, from ventilation shafts and lockers to unoccupied rooms and the undersides of benches, and he utilized the majority of them before he was able to discover where the scientist had gone. 

_I’m going to need a professional massage by the time I get out of here,_ Dick thought, working out a kink in his spine when he’d safely entered an empty room adjoined to the one the scientist had drifted into.

The man wasn’t the notorious Himmler, but listening in on him with the vacuum tube from the adjacent space, the name came up a handful of times. Something about _Himmler being pleased at this progress._ Word of _Project Sturm_ came up as well, bits about it moving along faster than scheduled. _Specimens_ and _ready soon_ drifted into Dick’s understanding of the language, and he felt the frown that he already wore deepening. Dialogue tapered down, followed by the sounds of shuffling and footsteps.

It all quieted eventually, and Dick moved on, taking care to remain cognizant of his surroundings. The room the scientist exited had been something of a meeting room, with chairs stacked in the back and a desk in one corner. The desk drawers were full of ledgers, their contents all in German. With haste, Dick photographed as many pages and ledgers as he could, careful to preserve his roll of film, before moving on. 

Moving through the mostly quiet halls, pausing a handful of times to take cover in the boiler room and various closets or unoccupied office spaces, he found that the majority of corridors were home to labs and empty cells. These were populated by cots protruding from walls and buckets that stood in one corner of each space. There were, from what Dick saw, no prisoners inside them, although he found evidence of use within several. The labs had certainly seen plenty of business — and still did, as evidenced when Dick was forced to conceal himself in the back corner of a standing supply closet in one of them, his body twisted into a pretzel to utilize the most of the cover within. He held that position for nearly an hour, waiting for the men in the lab to finish what it was they were doing. He stiffly made his way out when they finally left, worked some kinks out of his joints, and jotted notes and took photographs as quickly as possible. He reentered the network of halls, careful to maintain his secrecy.

In time, he came upon a hexagonal, open space with a tall, vaulted ceiling. It was a vast area, about the size of an American football field. The stone walls were lit a bilious yellow from the electric sconces set all throughout, the concrete floor beneath splashed with the ugly light. The room was full of lab tables covered with various equipment, with cots symmetrically arranged about the space, and what appeared to be some form of a control center within the middle. Each bed was separated by plastic curtains that hung from posts at the walls. Dick scoped this room, noting that there were apparent surveillance windows from high up on the far end. If he stayed close to the ground and kept to the shadowed patches in the surveillance room’s blind spots, he could make his way through undetected — even by the eye in the sky. 

It was slow going, however, and required intense concentration. He cautiously approached one of the lab tables first, finding evidence of the vials from the refrigerated storeroom. He risked a photograph and noted this evidence, then he moved on to investigate the nearest cots. 

He was surprised to find that there were _people_ strapped to them, all of these unfortunate souls tethered to the beds by way of thick, leather bonds. All appeared to be in some form of rest or stasis. The first individual he investigated up close slept in this apparently induced unconsciousness, a bag of the same yellow-tinted substance as the SF38 vials working its way into her veins through a thick, intravenous tube inserted into her hand. He couldn’t tell in specific what was happening — the girl didn’t appear to be injured, merely in slumber. Her reddish hair was shorn close to her head and her body, clad only in a filthy, linen shift, was utterly emaciated. He took some more notes, then photographed the scene as unobtrusively as possible. As he moved to the next cot, his heart urged him to help the girl — but he knew that in his present position, he simply could not. And that aside, he couldn’t tell if these were willing test subjects, or if they were the prisoners that had evidently been held in the cells before being brought out here. He gritted his teeth as he rounded the plastic divider, squeezing between the metal pole and the stone wall.

Dick’s brows furrowed. The man upon this bed was positively enormous — just a gargantuan individual, his hair the same color as the girl’s in the cot nearby. A beard covered his mammoth face, his breadth barely held by the cot beneath him. Like the girl, he slept, his hand fed with what appeared to be the same fluid via a thicker IV. The man was naked, his behemoth form malnourished in spite of his bulk, covered in patches of reddish hair from head to toe. Periodically, his muscles twitched. 

As Dick finished his notes and went to photograph what he saw, there was a low growl that undulated through the very fiber of his muscles, vibrating the marrow of his bones and setting his hair to stand immediately on end. His eyes darted about, seeking the source of this strange growling, and his feet planted and hands dropped the camera to hang from the strap about his neck when he realized that the _man on the cot_ was growling. The muscles in the massive biceps bunched up and pulsed, the fists clutching in powerful grips. It was then that Dick saw the man’s eyes were open — and staring right at him.

The man roared, then thrashed, one almighty whip of his body enough to overturn the bed — rooted to the floor — to its side. The sound was deafening. Dick didn’t have time to consider whether to help him, as the resounding blare of an alarm blasted to life around them. 

He lunged away, the sounds of the roaring man and blazing signal setting his ears ringing, and thrusting the camera to his back, he dove to his belly and slid to a grate a little ways from him. It was an iron work set in the flat of a wall, and although he couldn’t be sure of its purpose, Dick assumed it was a drainage system. He produced a handsaw from his utility belt, sprinted through cutting away enough of the grate to contort his way into the tunnel beyond, and wound up on his side some feet below the opening to the hexagonal room with a splash into a runneling of dirty water. He rushed to prop the severed grating back into place so as not to draw attention to it before he could escape, and paused, staring through the opening, now unable to look away.

The gigantic man had mostly freed himself from the cot, half of its metal body still tied to one almighty wrist, and he stood at his full height, bellowing an ear-shattering cry at a line of German guards that had appeared to challenge him. The bark of gunshots shouted into the air, the bullets striking the giant, having little outward effect. The mammoth swung the arm that still held the broken shard of the cot, striking a nearby guard and sending the unlucky man in a staggering arc through the air. Another guard suffered a crushing heel kick to the chest, the impact caving the entire thoracic area and snapping his neck like a stick. It was a terrible sight that twisted Dick’s guts like a washrag, but his training prevailed with the strangely disconnected thought that maybe he should gather some evidence of these awful events as they transpired, and so, he fumbled for his camera. 

He was able to get off one snapshot of the raging prisoner as he hunched his shoulders and roared at the guards that continued to fire at him. When the giant clasped one screaming guard’s head within an enormous hand, Dick decided he’d seen enough, and spun within the tight confines of the drainage tunnel to make his way toward what he hoped would prove an escape. The drainage route led to a thick tube in the ground that proved too long and deep to use safely as a means of escape, and so Dick found a flight of stone steps that led upward to a tiny, cramped corridor. There was silence in this hall, no evidence of any humans in the corridor itself, and so, he took out the hacksaw. 

Now rolling out of this grate and into the hall beyond, he found what he sought — a path to the outside, evidenced by a door at one end with a window set into its top. The gold sunlight of late summer burned through, and by its cant in the sky, he knew what routes from the eastern side of the complex he could use safely and without alerting any of the posted guards to make it to his rendezvous point in the woods beyond, two klicks to the northwest of where he’d find himself once he got outside. He got his feet under him and rushed to the door.

A thump to his left deterred his progress, and he paused, looking at the circular window etched into one of the doors set in the wall. Again, a thump — made by the flat of a hand striking the window from the opposite side of the pane. He frowned, gazing through the small opening from where he vacillated. 

A crowd of people milled about in the room’s bounds, some nude, others half-dressed in ragged slips like the one the girl on the cot wore. The face of the man the thumping hand belonged to was wild-eyed and slack-jawed, the expression alight with the kind of desperation seen in snared animals. Dick hesitated, and took one step toward the door.

He froze when he saw a shock of matted brown hair that trailed down the back of one skeletal woman, her face turned aside, the profile catching the scant light through the window of the cell door. Something clanged in Dick’s recognition, bringing his memory to the front of his awareness, screaming at him — 

“Mom…?” he breathed, taking one step closer.

“ _Hey! Hey, du hörst auf!”_

Dick jerked his head, then, to see a guard running toward him, gun drawn.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Moonlight Serenade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artemis hates being stuck at the Checkmate base while her husband is out on a dangerous mission, but what else can she do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> So here we are at chapter 5. Before we get the ball rolling I do want to make a note of a slightly triggery subject. There are words expressed by characters here that are incredibly derogatory if not downright racist, in reference to Dick's heritage. You'll know them when you see them. The views expressed do not reflect the views of either author, but they were a common sentiment at the time. While I was writing this chapter I felt like it would take away from the setting to have them express a more modern outlook. It was a common attitude of the time and to ignore it would be to ignore how far we've come as a species.
> 
> As always, we love comments and kudos, just please be kind.  
> Love all of you fantastic readers!  
> AJ

Artemis peered out the window of Checkmate’s field communication base and took a sip of coffee. Setting up the base had been difficult, especially considering how close they were to the German border. They were still deep in enemy territory, but there were enough Austrians to form a resistance. From the looks of the resistance fighters, they were at the end of their rope. Not that she blamed them, five years of German control and the steadily decrease in liberty would have left anyone ragged. 

A knock at the door drew her attention. It was likely one of the intelligence contacts picking up that day’s encoded report. The ever present army guard tensed next to the SIGABA machine as the door opened to reveal Gardner returning from his most recent mission, finding food. If Artemis had been the one in charge, she never would have sent him. The man’s thick New England accent was a dead give away that he was a foreigner. But she wasn’t in charge, so she had to bite her tongue and keep her thoughts to herself. 

“Everywhere out there is crawlin’ with Krauts.” He unloaded some vegetables from a paper sack and stared at her. “Hope Grayson makes it back quick so we can get back to civilization.” 

She rolled her eyes. He'd been trying to bait her into saying something about Dick since they’d left England. _What is he getting at?_

“How’s about whippin something edible up, sugar?” Gardner’s meaty hand slid around Artemis’ waist. 

“I’m not your nursemaid, and if you want to keep your hand I suggest you move it immediately.” She cast a sideways glance at him. They worked with each other on a daily basis, surely the idiot knew she could hold her own. She’d taken him down, despite his claims of sandbagging. 

“What’s wrong, Agent Crock? The gypsy’s absence getting to you?” 

_Take a deep breath._ “I don’t like being touched without consent. Something your mother should have taught you when you were a child.” She set her coffee cup down on a nearby table. “Now, I will give you to the count of three to remove your hand from my person or I will ensure that you regret it.” 

His hand twitched at her waist. 

“One.” She ground out the word, seething inside. 

He didn’t move. 

She took a deep breath and tensed her arm, ready to strike if he made her continue her countdown. “Two.” 

Thankfully whoever was looking down on her set off the lightbulb in Gardner’s head that it would be a good idea to move. He stepped away from her and sulked off to the other end of the room. 

Artemis let out a breath of relief. She drummed her fingers along the table’s surface. There wasn’t much to do at this point except wait for Dick to return. She’d already typed up and encoded the report Gardner and Bullock brought back. Now unless someone brought them news, it was a waiting game. 

*~* 

Artemis knelt in front of the door to a suspected Nazi sympathizer in London. The mission was simple. Get in, find evidence, get out. She could easily do the required tasks alone, had done them since she could remember. Colonel Trevor and General Armstrong insisted that she needed a partner though, so here she was with Dick—Agent Grayson—keeping a lookout. She twisted the tension wrench inside the lock and set about putting the pins into place. 

“How’s it going?” Dick leaned against the brick wall of the building. 

“Oh you know, slow and tedious.” She grunted, “It would go smoother if it weren’t for this rusted out pathetic excuse for a lock.” The pins didn’t want to move and as a result the tumbler didn’t want to turn. 

“Would you like assistance?” 

She shot him a glance that told him _exactly_ what she thought of his idea. 

He held up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean to imply that you couldn’t do it on your own.” 

Artemis bit her lip. He’d proven true so far and hadn’t treated her like she was made of porcelain. “Good, because I’d hate to show you up.” 

“I haven’t forgotten our sparring session last week.” His grin faltered when footsteps slowed near the alley’s entrance. “Though, if you can hurry a little, I don’t think it would go amiss.” 

“I’m going as fast as I can, Grayson.” 

“I’m going to check on who might be out there. Hopefully it’s just a drunk who needed a dry overhang. Be right back.” He disappeared into the gloom. 

_At least I can focus without distraction now._ She wormed the lock pick in further to the tumbler until she heard the satisfying click of the lock opening. She stood and brushed dirt from her skirt. 

“Are we cooking with gas, Agent Crock?” 

Artemis’ fist flew toward where the voice had come from out of instinct. When she realized she’d punched Dick in the face, she let out a gasp. “Are you okay?” 

He rubbed his jaw before working it. “I’m fine. I’ll have great story for tomorrow, but no lasting damage.” 

She smacked his shoulder. “Don’t you know not to sneak up on people?” 

“I thought you heard me, Scout’s honor.” He held up his hand. “Honestly, if I’d known you hadn’t I would have made my presence known sooner.” 

“Fine, let’s just get this show on the road,” she huffed, stepping into the dark building. “Where did the blueprints put his office at?” 

“Second floor, first door on the left just off the stairwell.” He slipped in behind her and gingerly closed the door. 

“All right, lead the way.” 

Together they crept up the stairs to William Newman’s office, only to find the door locked. 

“We don’t have time to pick another lock.” Artemis hissed as she jiggled the door knob. “Especially one like this.” 

“We may not need to pick the lock. There’s an open transom.” He pointed to the window over the door. “Can you give me a bit of a boost?” 

Artemis raised an eyebrow. “You’re kidding, right?” 

“Suit yourself, but it’ll make a racket.” Dick grinned. 

She sighed and shifted into a shallow lunge. “Up you go.” 

He stepped up, bracing his foot near her hip. With the added height he was able to slip through the transom window. She saw the dark figure of his shadow through the frosted glass of the door. 

“Bad news, no way to unlock the door from in here, either,” he whispered through the keyhole. 

“It’s an older Mortise Lock, you can’t open it without the key or delicate lock picking,” she hissed at him. “Just find the evidence and get out of there before we get caught.” 

Dick tsked at her. “Such impatience, Agent Crock.” 

“I’m not really keen on being tortured for information if he is in league with the Axis Powers.” 

Artemis chewed on a nail as several flashes went off inside Mr. Newman’s office. She desperately hoped they got everything they needed from this mission that had gone sideways from the get go. 

The door rattled against the frame. 

“What are you doing in there?” She tried to hold the door still to maintain some quiet in the otherwise deserted building. 

“I didn’t have anyone to help me up that time.” Dick winked as he dropped down in front of her. “Told you it would make a racket.” 

She took a deep breath. “Did you get the information we needed?” 

“Yes and no.” He took her hand and all but pulled her down the stairs, something she didn’t take kindly to. 

“What is wrong with you?” She yanked her hand free from his. 

“I’m pretty sure I tripped some kind of security system in there, so we should leave. Like now.” 

Her jaw dropped. “What do you mean, you tripped some sort of security system?” 

“There was a rope and I didn’t hear anything go off when I literally tripped over it. But it’s safe to assume someone is on their way.” 

“This could jeopardize our entire operation.” She walked quickly into the alley so they could make their escape. 

Dick caught up with her, sticking close to her side. “I am aware of that. I’ll make this right, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

She stopped to face him. “Why would I be worried about that?” 

He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Because I’m still a Pawn and you’re a Rook and technically I’m your trainee for this mission? I don’t want my mistake to reflect badly on you. Especially with how hard you’ve worked to get where you are.” 

Her eyes pricked with tears. Why did he just have to be this _nice_? She could handle the sardonic words thrown at her from her fellow agents who would rather see her fail and stay home like women should. “It’s fine. Let’s go.” 

His hands flew to her waist, pushing her back against the brick wall. She gripped his wrists, ready to dig her nails into them. 

“Too late, someone’s heading this way.” He stayed close, keeping her pressed against the wall. 

“You should warn a girl before you do something like that.” She narrowed her eyes at him. 

“Well, then, Agent Crock, let me just ask your forgiveness.” He stared down at her. 

“That’s going a bit overboard, don’t you thi—” 

His lips crashed onto hers. Her body dissolved into a hundred sensations at once. He moved a hand up to tangle in her hair. The other, still at her waist, burned through the silk of her blouse. An alarm went off in one corner of her brain, yelling that she shouldn’t be doing this. The larger part melted at his touch. 

He pulled back, breaking the kiss with a needy inhale. 

“Forgiveness granted,” she whispered. Her legs had turned to jelly to the point that she was afraid to move. 

“Are you all right, Agent Crock?” 

She shook her head. “I’m fine. We should report back.” 

Once they were back at the Checkmate headquarters, they both gave their full report to Principal Agent Stein. True to his word, Dick took full responsibility for tripping the security system. Stein wasn’t exactly happy about it, but agreed to keep Dick on mission work as long as he didn’t make the same mistake. 

Artemis made two cups of coffee, one with a ghastly amount of sugar, and made her way to Grayson’s desk where he was typing up the report he just gave Stein. She set the cup in front of him, careful not to splash the liquid over the side. “I figured you could use the pick me up since we’ll be here all night.” 

“You are a godsend, Agent Crock.” He leaned back from the typewriter and sent a smile her way. 

“I don’t know if I’d go _that_ far, but you’re welcome.” She studied the cup in her hands for a moment. “Why did you do that?” 

His eyes grew wide, like a child with their hand caught in a cookie jar. “Do what?” 

“Kiss me like that.” 

His posture relaxed. “Didn’t you see Newman creeping down the alley? I had to make him look away somehow.” 

That did make a lot of sense. Public displays of affection made people uncomfortable. “Of course, I knew that...just wanted to make sure there weren’t any other motives at play.” 

Dick just gave her one of his disarming smiles before turning back to the report and clacking away at the keys. The bell dinged when he reached the end of the line. “I can’t believe he was in league with the Gestapo.” 

Artemis crossed her ankles and leaned against the surface of the desk. “Or that he would keep a letter addressed to Herr Wilhelm Neumann in his desk.” 

“I’ve been wondering that myself since we left. Documents of that nature usually end up in a safe somewhere, not lying out where anyone could get to them.” Dick drummed his fingers on the desk’s surface. “Something to keep an eye on for sure.” 

*~* 

A rhythmic knock pulled Artemis from her memories. Gardner peered through the keyhole and opened the door. 

“Who’re you?” He demanded in badly accented German. 

“Wally West, MIS,” the red-haired man in the doorway replied in English. 

Artemis’ head snapped up, her eyes widening. “Get inside, quickly. Before anyone can report us.” _Do they not_ think _before they speak?_

Wally stepped inside and shut the door with a soft click before removing his hat. “Apologies, ma’am, didn’t mean to blow your cover.” 

“I’m sure you didn’t.” She folded her arms and fought the urge to roll her eyes. “To phrase Agent Gardner’s question better, what can we do for you?” 

“Oh, I’m here to deliver this.” He pulled a roll of paper tape from his pocket. “And to pick up any intel you might have gathered.” 

She took the roll from him and set it next to the SIGABA machine. “What are your orders, West?” 

He stared at her with wide green eyes. “I beg your pardon, ma’am?” 

“Agent Crock. Rook for Checkmate and the agent in charge of this field office. I need to know your orders.” She stared him down, something about him felt...off. 

He shifted under her gaze. “I’m to deliver your intelligence to the Checkmate liaison in Lichtenstein and then pass it on to US Intelligence.” 

“Then why were we not informed of your coming? Quite the slip up in communications, if you ask me.” 

Wally rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh. “I volunteered at the last minute. I heard that Agent Grayson was with this unit and I wanted to say hi.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “You have two minutes to explain before I call your commanding officer, West.” 

“My uncle and Dick’s foster Dad work together sometimes, so we grew up seeing each other during business trips. Then he ran off and joined the War as soon as he could and I just wanted to see my old friend.” 

“You’re lucky he’s mentioned having a friend named Wally.” She handed him the roll of tape containing the encrypted information she’d typed that morning. “He’s out on assignment though, but I’ll pass your greeting along when we see him.” 

A relieved expression washed over his face. “Thanks. And tell him to at least write a letter to Bruce...they’re worried sick.” 

She nodded and shooed him out the door. 

“I’ll pass your greeting on when we see him.” Gardner batted his eyelashes at her, pitching his voice to a falsetto tone. 

“Something wrong?” She cast a sideways glance at him as she fed the new intel into the SIGABA machine to decrypt. 

“I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to pass a lot of things along to Agent Grayson. Don’t think nobody’s noticed you two getting—chummy—here as of late.” 

She only paid him a margin of attention as she copied down the news from Checkmate. When she saw the word “Sportsmaster” everything else faded into the background. What was he doing in Austria? She continued to write out the message. Of course her estranged father was working with the Nazi’s. 

The door slammed shut and she just about broke her pencil when it jarred her. 

“Agent Bullock, would you care to explain what on Earth that was about?” she snapped at the intrusion. 

Bullock leaned against the door, breathing heavily. “Had to lose a tail.” 

“And you left Agent Grayson outside to deal with it on his own?” She would ring his neck if any harm came to Dick because of Bullock’s negligence. 

“He missed his check-in. And it’s under heavy Nazi control so I couldn’t just wait around.” 

_No, no, no, no, no. He’s still there?_


	6. My Name is Jon Jensen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning... torture and slurs and the like ahead~
> 
> Otherwise, happy reading, y’all!!

**CHAPTER 6**

  
  


Dick stared at the stone walls of the cell, immobilized on the metal cot that extended from the wall. He hadn’t been lying on the cold metal for what he thought was overly long — although he equally couldn’t be sure if he’d been there for six hours or even six days. His legs had at least stopped screaming to the point of deafening him to everything else going on his body, dwindling down into a hard, shaking numbness. 

After the first connecting shot from the guards’ rifles went through the plantaris at the back of his left knee, he lost his footing where he sprinted through the woods outside the building. Before this bit of colossally rotten luck, the first guard to catch him inside the building had rapidly been joined by three more, all of them armed. Although he successfully disarmed two and knocked down the third, the last skinned his arm with a shot from his weapon. Minimally armed and with the sounds of more guards approaching, Dick fled through the door he originally intended to escape through, slamming his body into it with every ounce of his strength. It scooted open just enough to dump him out on his side halfway out of the doorway. He squeezed his way through, and took off for the woods at a dead sprint.

Dick figured he had to have led the chase for at least a couple of miles — by the time the guards caught up to be within range of him, dogs and motorbikes had joined the pursuit. When the blow from the rifle took his leg right out from underneath him, he thought for a moment to go possum where he landed, hoping that if they assumed he was dead they’d toss him on a wagon and he could make another bid for escape when they weren’t looking. But for as hard as he battled to control his breathing, his chest leapt and fell frantically, his desperate respiration powered by instinct, a dead giveaway that he still lived. When the soldiers caught up to him, he put up as good a fight as he could against the droves of men without the use of one leg — until a bayonet lanced his right thigh, and the butt of a rifle drove into his temple.

He awoke in the cell, dressed in only his blood-soaked, ripped slacks and dirty undershirt, everything else taken from him. His wounds were minimally dressed, although not apparently treated beyond that. He was alone, the cell devoid of light minus the dim illumination from the lamps in the corridor. He had to have been out at least past nightfall. His hands were bound, resting atop his middle, cuffed at the wrists. 

Still lying on his back, his head turned to the wall of the cell, he breathed slowly in and out. The cuffs he could get out of, and the lock on the door of the cell could be picked without his usual tools, given there were smaller variants of these tools sewn into his slacks that he could make use of. However, he had to be sure that he wouldn’t have an audience as he did so, and moreover, that he could make his way out of the building in the first place. His legs, currently not of particular use, might not carry him to freedom.

He ground his teeth, knowing better than to hope for rescue. It seemed his only feasible option would be to survive this place until he healed enough to make a break for it — but he knew there was no way he’d be left alive long enough for that. Doubtless, the only reason he was being kept alive was for information, or for worse. 

There was a flurry of noise outside the cell, and Dick lifted his head to listen. The clatter of metal rattled beyond the door, the squeal of a wheel followed. Then, there were voices.

Some bits of speech Dick couldn’t hear through the metal door, but he picked up on a handful of words — _spy, get something from him, possibility._ He inhaled when the door opened.

A man entered, wearing a lieutenant’s uniform that was tailored impeccably to his imposing form. Broad shoulders barely fit through the doorway. His height was scarcely contained within the small room. He removed his hat, running a hand over his wheat blonde hair, and replaced it. Dick met the man’s blue eyes with his own.

“Interesting, the circumstances that brought you here,” the lieutenant said in accented English, accepting a chair from the soldier that stood at the door behind him. He sat, and folded his hands with his elbows atop his knees. “From what I’ve understood, we ensured that this compound was impenetrable. And yet… here you are. A Gypsy from America, making his way inside, taking valuable property, seeing things that even our own infantrymen aren’t permitted access to, keeping a tidy journal and photographs of his findings…” He leaned closer to Dick. “You’ve put us in an interesting place, haven’t you?”

Dick didn’t speak, merely concentrated his breathing, and didn’t flinch under the lieutenant’s penetrating gaze.

“Who are you?” asked the lieutenant. 

Dick didn’t respond.

“Come now. You’re not in a position to be quiet and brave and noble — I think we can agree upon that,” said the lieutenant. “Now, tell me. Who are you?”

Dick obstinately remained quiet.

The lieutenant half-smiled. “Two injured legs, a blow to the head, nine hours in a cold cell… You’d be amazed at how often less than that is sufficient to inspire my subjects to open up to me.” 

_Subjects._ Dick openly sneered at him.

“Thankfully, time is somewhat on my side… so I suppose we could add a few things to that list, possibly inspiring you in time to realize that I am truly your only hope at survival,” the lieutenant said, rising to his feet. With a swiftness that belied his imposing stature, he seized a fistful of Dick’s hair, yanking him up from the cot. In his other hand, seemingly produced by magic by how quickly it appeared, was a blade. Its edge was pressed to Dick’s cheek just as rapidly. “You got into this building by some kind of dumb luck, Gypsy scum — no one will be able to enter to retrieve you. And on two useless legs, you won’t be escorting yourself out, either. Which means… I am all you have.” He pressed the knife harder to Dick’s flesh. “I can make your life here an absolute hell, don’t think I can’t, or that I won’t for subhuman garbage like yourself… or we can develop something of an understanding. Wherein you come to realize that here, in your new home, I am your very best friend.”

Dick chose this moment to slip the cuffs, buying his escape swiftly through the methods taught him by his old mentors at Haly’s. He remained as still as possible so as not to give himself away, and held the lieutenant’s stare. 

“Yeah, you’re my best friend, all right,” Dick said, adopting false cheer, intoning his voice to sound as though he’d just come upon a great discovery. “Comrades, buddies, pals… brothers from another mother, even.” He squinted. “We even _look_ alike, don’t we?” A sense of gratification rose in him when he saw the twitch, hardly perceptible, but undeniably there, in the lieutenant’s eyelid. “Yet you don’t even know my _fucking name.”_ He dropped the facade and shook his head. “So you just call me scum and garbage. Throw around the word ‘gypsy’ like what — an endearment? Tell me, oh, great herr Lieutenant — why shouldn’t _I_ make my time here a little jaunt through hell for _you,_ then?”

He disarmed the lieutenant, taking a cut to the cheek as the knife was swept away, thrust an elbow into the man’s groin, and then rolled to the ground with a tremendous thud. He hurled the cuffs into the face of the soldier standing guard, staggering him, and swiped the knife from where it lay on the floor. Dick had never entered Checkmate with any intention of causing death to another human, Nazi or no, but the lieutenant’s dropped knife was his only weapon. If he could use it to at least _disable_ these men, he might be able to drag himself into the woods to hide and wait for rescue — the forest was undeniably safer than this compound. 

The lieutenant rushed at him, his big hands wrapping around Dick’s throat. Dick fought to get the handle of the knife into position in his sweaty hand, using his other to battle the man’s hold. His breath stalled at his adversary’s grip, strengthened by the man’s weight.

“Don’t fight,” the lieutenant murmured. “You’ve lost already, my young friend. You know this. I can _see_ that you know this. Just stop fighting.”

Finally with the blade securely in his grip, Dick lashed at the man’s fingers in a gout of blood, and when the lieutenant shouted and slackened his hold, Dick rolled away to drag himself toward the open door, gulping to recover his breath. The soldier standing guard had replevied his senses by then, and set upon Dick with a vengeance. They struggled a moment in the doorway, the soldier’s boot connecting with Dick’s middle and chin, until Dick got a hold of the soldier’s ankle. He gave an almighty yank, forcing his opponent’s balance to fail, and then drove the heel of his hand into the bridge of the soldier’s nose with a sharp _snap._ Dick hurried to crawl away into the hall, his muscles burning with effort, hardly noticed beneath the scream of adrenaline. He attempted to rise, but one leg refused to hold him, and the other shrieked under the burden of his weight. He fell to his hands, his legs collapsing sideways under him.

Hands closed with the force of iron pincers around his ankle, sending pain bellowing through his wounded leg. He rolled to his back, lifting at his middle, throwing his left jab repeatedly at the lieutenant’s face as the man rose, dragging Dick up with him. A right cross loosened his adversary’s grip when Dick’s fist connected _hard_ at the man’s lip and jaw, but as Dick fell when he was released, blistering agony shot through the whole of his body. Blinded and stricken deaf and stupid, he lay gasping for the barest moment. This instant was just long enough that the lieutenant pressed one boot down into the center of Dick’s chest, pinning him painfully to the ground. 

“I told you,” the lieutenant said, idly wiping away the blot of blood that welled up at his lower lip, “stop fighting.” 

With that, he removed his weight to drop his heel down on Dick’s face — and Dick knew no more.

  
  


~*~

  
  


Dick’s eyes opened to the insistent spear of sickly light that prodded his lids apart. He shifted his gaze, and regretted it immediately when the stab of pain blackened his sight. He tried to press a hand to the sharp throbbing at his forehead, but couldn’t — he was bound, he discovered. Gingerly, he opened his eyes, confused.

For a bleary, painful moment, he wasn’t sure where he was, or how he came to be there — he had initially woken under the impression that he was at home in his London flat with Artemis, sleeping off a night of champagne, dancing, and some fun under the covers. However, he was cold, prone atop some hard, icy surface, tied down, and distinctly alone.

He carefully moved his head to investigate the situation he’d found himself in, and when he saw the wounds on his bare legs, remembrance crept into his clotted awareness. He grimaced, and took a breath, now considering how to get out of this accelerating mess. He was naked, his body strapped to a metal gurney, bonds looping over his chest, middle, thighs, and calves. His wrists and ankles were bound so tightly that the blood flow was obstructed, indicated by the lack of feeling and the sense of bulbous pins and needles, the tethers to the gurney too short to allow even a slight lift in any of his limbs. Escaping from these straps would take time — a _lot_ of time. He ground his teeth, and rested his aching head a moment. 

“ _Hey. Er ist wach.”_

Dick noted that the lieutenant stood with two other soldiers, a scientist among the gathering. The lieutenant glanced at him over his shoulder, and then returned his attention to his fellows. Dick listened, catching bits of the conversation that flowed in unhushed German.

_Does he have the gene? —_

_Of course he doesn’t have the gene, Gyspy garbage —_

_And you were unable to get any information from him, herr Lieutenant?_

_No, but there are things we’ve not yet tried —_

_The dip, followed by this serum, might prove useful —_

Dick lifted his head, and spoke. 

“ _Hey,”_ he said, shifting to German, “ _ich kann dich hören.”_

All of them turned to learn that Dick could, in fact, hear and understand them, and the lieutenant smirked.

“ _Ah, du sprichst Deutsch,”_ he said. Continuing in English, he approached Dick. “As I speak your mother language, as well. Tell me, young man. Are you now prepared to inform us of who you are?”

Dick caught sight of the stitches in the lieutenant’s lip, still purpled and swollen about the sutures, and the bandages about the fingers of his ungloved right hand. 

“Sure,” he said. “I’m the guy that rearranged your face and put your gun hand out of commission.” He gave the lieutenant a wide smile.

The man smirked in turn, apparently unperturbed. “You have an inflated perception of your role in this relationship, my young friend. But someone out there found you useful —” He paused, “well. Useful, or _expendable_ enough to send you in here, from what I have gathered to uncover what you could about this place and report back to your superiors. You are a pawn in a larger game engineered by men far more powerful and clever than you.” He inclined his head. “You think the same people who sent you in here care about you or your fate? All they care about is the information that you might have gathered, which is in our hands now.” He straightened, looming over Dick. “And I am all that stands between you and a very, very uncomfortable road to that next place. You tell us now who you are, who — in specific — it is you happen to be serving, what their particular interest in this facility might be, where we might find them to organize a meeting so that we might come to some form of terms… and I will be happy to show you what mercy is available to me.”

“What’s that, a slightly quicker death?” Dick said with a light snort.

The lieutenant half-smiled. “Perhaps. Or you could be held in Dachau with certain privileges, some you might find preferable to the amenities you’d find here.”

“So none of the above lists you letting me out of here,” Dick observed.

The lieutenant chuckled. “No. No, of course not. I’m afraid we can’t allow that, considering what you’ve been made privy to during your stay with us. We would prefer not to show our hand to those we consider to be our enemies this early on — I’m sure you understand. But be that as it may, you appear to be an able-bodied boy, capable of good work — surely you would find yourself of use up the way. Enough use to the staff that you might earn extra benefits, and enough use to us that I will personally ensure that you are kept immune from the harder, less pleasant work that many inmates are tasked with. The question now becomes… how useful to us would you like to make yourself in the nature of your best interest? The time has come for you to make your choice in this situation — will you stay quiet and die for those who would not stay quiet and die for you… or will you help me, and thereby allow me to help you?”

Dick shrugged to the best of his ability. “Maybe. I mean… I can help you get set up with a really good proctologist?” He gestured. “He could help pull that stick out of your ass. Do you a whole world of good.”

The lieutenant lifted his brows, pursing his lips as though amused. “What is your name?”

“Jan Jensen,” Dick said.

“Jan Jensen.”

“Yon Yonson,” said Dick.

Again, the lieutenant lifted his brows.

“My name is Yon Yonson,” Dick said with a fervent air, fixing his eyes on the man as though desperate, “I come from Wisconsin.”

“Humor will not serve your cause, here, boy,” said the lieutenant.

“No, really — I work in a lumber yard there,” Dick said, then proceeded to sing, “All the people I meet! As I walk down the street! Ask me how in the hell I got there —”

The lieutenant’s fist cuffed Dick’s mouth. A flash of pain and tingling numbness blushed through Dick’s skull, his lip going hot and fat. 

“I will admit to growing tired of you… cretin Gypsy,” the lieutenant growled. “You’ve left me no choice now but to _force_ the answers I want from you.”

The scientist approached the gurney following a nod from the lieutenant. “ _Der dip, herr Leutnant?”_

“ _Ja,”_ said the lieutenant. “We’ll see how far we can press this boy’s body.”

“Mm,” the scientist concurred, “ _er ist bei guter Gesundheit… ein gutes Exemplar.”_

Dick held his silence as the scientist wheeled him away, pondering those words — _he is in good health, an excellent specimen._ For what, exactly — _pressing his body?_

Entering a concrete room that was lit with the same sickly light as the rest of the facility, Dick spied a large pool at the far end, the water within clear enough, the sink itself to his limited view some feet deep. A control center of sorts stood across the room from it like a metal sentinel, chalkboards on the wall beyond. Some guards and scientists followed them into the room some moments after they entered. Dick worked at his bonds, continuing in his ongoing efforts at escape — although he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to buy his freedom in time to avoid whatever his enemies had planned for him in this room. Going on the term, _The Dip,_ Dick had a pretty reasonable idea of what awaited him here.

Listening to the men around him as they spoke, Dick’s heart sank as their intentions became clear — confirming his suspicions.

_What is the temperature of the water at the moment?_

A young man moved swiftly to test the surface of the pool. He looked up at the scientist, and indicated the thermometer.

_Negative two-point-two, sir._

_Perfect… shouldn’t take overly long, then… fifteen minutes to death, perhaps, and then we might see about removing him and testing the serum on him —_

All sounds passed through Dick’s awareness now as he went all in on freeing himself, struggling as hard as he could, making little progress as the team of uniformed men he now knew to be Nazi researchers bustled around him. When two of these researchers approached to collapse the legs of the gurney and lift the slab with him bound atop, his mind went blank with shrieking adrenaline and the bestial desperation to _escape._ His awareness was in such a blind, deaf frenzy that he couldn’t tell if he screamed aloud as the men bore him toward the water, or when they slid the gurney — and his body — into the suffocating deep freeze of the pool. It was only when the bellow of his voice was abruptly cut off by the vivid shock of the water that he learned that he had, in fact, been screaming — and loudly, at that. The water just reached his ears and cheeks, pricking with icy claws at the corners of his eyes, spots of his chest and knees breaching the surface. It soaked his hair, lapping at his forehead like a frozen tide.

He attempted to inhale, found that he couldn’t, then tried to struggle. His efforts, again, were to no avail. He jawed helplessly at the air, his respiration puffing too rapidly to pull in or expel any breath, his muscles stalled in a deadlocked network of stiff slabs. Some moments passed before he hauled in a lungful of oxygen with a spill of water, and he choked and hollered and coughed as loudly and powerfully as his lungs would permit — as much to stave off the extraordinary chill of the water and clear his airway as to voice his defiance. He couldn’t hear anything through the hum of the water that enclosed his ears, and his eyes refused to stay open at the painful sloshes that battered his lashes. He throttled at his restraints, his motions going slower and stupider with each second that ticked by. 

Eventually, his limbs no longer responded, each going unfeeling and heavy in the water. His sight had gone dark, although he wasn’t sure if he’d actually closed his eyes. He heard nothing, not even the thrum of the water. His chest didn’t seem to move, didn’t seem to even _try_ to heave. All was quiet, lightless, numb.

And in this dark, insensate silence, all he could see, all he could hear, all he could hold onto, was an image of Artemis’ face, a whisper of her voice — her gray eyes flinty with anger, her brows furrowed over the bridge of her nose, her teeth visibly clenched and her jaw working as she chewed him out for scaring her so badly and making her worry. She would _kill_ him for this, he knew it — he was in for a whuppin’ when he got home — 

The noiseless darkness rose up about what little of his consciousness remained, taking hold of it with insistent hands, and pulled him down until there was nothing.

  
  
  


  
  
  
  



	7. Sing, Sing, Sing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artemis needs help to find her missing husband, and she's desperate enough to search out known enemies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hangs head in shame*   
> I totally forgot today was Wednesday. I'm sorry y'all! It's been a crazy few weeks. Real Life is a bit of a whirlwind right now. I'm looking for a new job in the middle of trying to complete my MFA, not to mention it's the holidays and the absolute dumpster fire this year has been. So here you all go, chapter 7 posted really late in the day.
> 
> Love all of you faithful readers and I'm glad y'all have stuck with us so far. We really do love your kudos and comments!  
> A.J.

Artemis ducked into an alleyway, she’d waited until most of her teammates were asleep to change. Clad in a form fitting shirt, black trousers, and boots, she tapped her foot waiting for her ne’er-do-well father to show up. She removed the dark, knit cap from her head uncoiling the blonde braid. Their intelligence said Sportsmaster would be there tonight, and she had to take hold of the opportunity before her. 

A puck embedded itself in the wall beside her head. When it beeped, she ducked and rolled away before it exploded. Heat danced up her back, singeing the tips of her hair. It served as another painful reminder that her husband was MIA. 

*~* 

It had been just over a month since Artemis and Dick had scoped out _Herr Neumann’s_ office and in that time Checkmate discovered he planned to sabotage an allied base. He’d rented a warehouse in Southwark where he spent most of his time. If the plans Dick had photographed were any indication, Neumann was building a bomb to set off in South Kensington. 

Checkmate had thoroughly examined the stolen schematics before sending Artemis and Dick out on a mission to apprehend Neumann. So here they were, waiting for a Nazi spy to show himself. 

Artemis shivered in the chilly air. Spring had made its arrival, but Winter hadn’t wanted to release its grip just yet. 

“Here.” Dick draped his coat over her shoulders, drowning her in the wool garment three sizes too big. “Don’t want you to catch a cold.” 

She raised an eyebrow and shifted her gaze to him. “And what about you?” 

“I spent a lot of time running around Gotham at night with Bruce. The cold doesn’t really phase me anymore.” He shrugged and set a thermos on the ground between them. 

“Do I want to know what you and the playboy of Gotham City got up to all those evenings?” She shifted the coat so it settled better around her slim shoulders. 

“Probably not, no.” He winked before twining his fingers with hers. That was at least the upside of being stuck on a stakeout in the middle of the night. They didn’t have to be Agent Crock and Agent Grayson, now on equal standing of Rooks. She didn’t have to pretend they weren’t dating to keep her job, it was nice to let her guard down occasionally. 

“What’s in the thermos?” She squeezed his hand as the warmth from his skin spread up her arm. 

“Coffee.” He grinned and opened the lid. “And not the cheap Checkmate stuff either. This is the best New Jersey has to offer.” 

“How did you get Gotham coffee past the censors?” She unscrewed the lid and took a whiff of the heavenly aroma. 

“Alfred sent a package, I’m sure Bruce had something to do with it.” 

Artemis raised the bottle to take a drink. “Wait, how much sugar did you put in here?” 

Dick choked on a laugh beside her. “The normal amount.” 

“Normal for you, or normal for the rest of humanity without a sugar addiction?” 

“I do _not_ have a sugar addiction.” He raised a dark eyebrow. 

She swatted his arm. “And I’m the Queen of England.” 

He rubbed the spot where she’d playfully hit him. “In answer to your question, the normal amount for you.” 

“Thank you, I appreciate you bringing this along.” She took a sip of the warm coffee. 

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t think about keeping my girl comfortable?” 

“The kind that doesn’t want every one of his co-workers to find out about his secret relationship?” She crossed her legs and rested her elbows on the raised barrier of the roof. 

She heard him speak, but her attention caught on a figure unlocking the door of Neumann’s warehouse. 

She elbowed Dick in the side. “Looks like the target just showed up.” 

“Let’s catch ourselves a spy.” Dick stood and ran for the ladder to the ground. Artemis followed, only stopping when they peered in a window. 

“You’d think he’d be more careful about checking for tails.” She cupped her hands against the glass trying to see past the grime and streetlights. 

Dick rubbed a spot on the window, clearing away the grime. “This doesn’t sit well in my gut.” 

“Mine either, but we need to apprehend him before people get hurt.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m not leaving.” He nudged her side. 

A light gleamed to life inside the building, growing in intensity until it lit up the alley. By the time Artemis realized what it was, it was almost too late. 

She grabbed Dick’s hand and yanked him away. “Run!” 

She moved as fast as her legs would carry her. Running from the warehouse to—where was safe? 

She paused for a millisecond. 

“Get down!” 

She found herself pressed into his chest. They fell to the ground as the windows to the warehouse exploded. 

Heat flashed across her exposed skin. Her breath was driven from her lungs as she and Dick crashed to the ground. 

She blinked her eyes open. Darkness stared back at her, pressing her down into the unyielding pavement. Dick. He’d shielded her from the blast in the warehouse. 

He shifted and rolled to the side so she could get up. His fingertips brushed at her hair. “Are you okay?” 

Dumbly she nodded. “You?” 

“Alive.” He stood and brushed the debris from his trousers, wincing at the movement. 

She reached for him. “You’re hurt.” 

“Arty, I’ll be fine. Really.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “It’s nothing that will kill me.” 

She folded her arms. “The wince on your face says otherwise.” 

He opened his mouth to argue but she held up a hand. 

“For my own peace of mind, please get yourself checked out?” She bit the inside of her cheek, willing the tears pricking her eyes to stay where they were. True they hadn’t been dating long, but he was the first man she’d ever worked with who saw her as an equal. After his initial faux pas in thinking she was a secretary, he’d been her most loyal supporter. 

“Who’s going to keep you company on these stakeouts if I get benched, huh?” He flashed his most disarming smile. 

“And who’s going to take the blame if you get an infection because of your pride?” She spat at him. _This is why they tell us to not date fellow agents. It compromises the mission._

He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, you know this is gonna raise a lot of questions at headquarters.” 

The corner of her lips quirked up. “Who said anything about going to headquarters?” 

He tilted his head to the side. “Where else would we be going?” 

“Do you trust me?” She held her hand out to him. 

“To the ends of the Earth.” He slipped his hand into her grasp. “Lead the way Agent Crock.” 

She led him through town until they stopped in front of a non-descript brick building. 

“What’s this place?” He peered up at the stonework. 

“Someplace that no other Checkmate agent has ever seen.” She took a deep breath to settle her nerves. “This is _my_ flat. The girl I live with, she’ll be able to help.” 

A brief look of panic crossed his face. “You’re sure?” 

“She doesn’t know the full extent of what I do. Or that dating co-workers is grounds for...well a whole lot of bad. Zee is safe.” Artemis reached into her pocket and fished out the key. “Ready?” 

“Sure, if you say she’s trustworthy, I believe you.” He nodded and gave her hand a squeeze. 

She climbed the stairs to the second floor landing, and fit the key into the first door she came to. “Home, sweet, home.” 

Dick followed her inside and let out a low whistle at the floral print couch. “Never took you to be much for decorating.” 

“I’m not, that is the work of Zatanna Zatara.” She removed Dick’s coat and hung it on a peg next to the door. “Have a seat in the kitchen, I’ll get Zee.” 

Artemis made her way through the dark flat to Zatanna’s room and knocked on the door. A moment later the door cracked open, the dark haired girl squinting in the light from the hall. “You okay, Arty?” 

“I need your professional help. Nothing life threatening, but it’s beyond my medical expertise.” 

Zatanna’s blue eyed gaze flicked over Artemis. “You seem all right.” 

“It’s not me, it’s—” She closed her eyes, this was going to be fun to admit. “It’s Dick, the guy I’ve been seeing. He’s in the kitchen.” 

“Let me get decent and I’ll be right there. Grab some water and clean towels. I have a feeling we’re going to need them.” 

“Thank you.” She turned and made her way back to the kitchen. 

Dick leaned on the table, exhaustion etched into his face. It had been a long night and getting pelted by flaming shrapnel didn’t help matters. 

“Zee said she’d be right here.” Artemis rested a hand on his arm. She didn’t miss the grimace he made. 

“Good, that’s...good.” His voice sounded strained. 

“Where are you hurt?” 

That earned her a snort. “Better question is what _doesn’t_ hurt.” 

An icy fist clamped around her heart. She’d seen him brave injuries without so much as a flinch...the fact that he was admitting pain now didn’t bode well. 

Zatanna entered the kitchen, an old dressing gown sheathing her figure. “What happened?” 

“I can’t give you details, but a window shattered.” Artemis chewed on her lip. “He took the brunt of it.” 

“Help me get his shirt off so I can get a good look.” 

Dick’s fingers moved to unfasten the buttons of the Oxford shirt. “You know Arty, if you wanted to see my abs that bad, all you had to do is ask.” 

“I’d smack your head right now if you weren’t hurt.” 

At Zatanna’s sharp intake of breath, Artemis moved to see what had caused the reaction. Bits of glass were embedded in his skin, making the whole expanse of his back look like it shone in the kitchen light. What little didn’t have glass in it sported angry, red burns. 

“That doesn’t sound good.” He shifted in the chair. 

“I’m not going to lie, this will not feel pleasant. You’ve got glass shards covering just about inch of you and burns on top of that.” Zatanna crouched next to him. “We’re going to get the glass out and irrigate the wounds. From there we’ll tend the burns, okay?” 

Dick nodded. 

“And I’ll be right here. If you need to squeeze my hand, feel free.” Artemis gave him a soft smile. It wasn’t her fault, but she still felt some strange responsibility over the fact he’d gotten injured. 

Picking sharp glass out piece by piece took hours. Zatanna had just flushed everything with water as the sun’s first rays touched the horizon. “Neither of you are going anywhere.” Zatanna insisted. 

“And how do you propose we explain to our superiors why we won’t be in this morning.” Artemis folded her arms, wincing at a stinging in her arm. 

“The truth? You’ve both been medically advised that you need to rest.” 

“I’ll call Colonel Trevor and explain if you want.” Dick offered. 

“Fine, make it believable.” Artemis handed him the telephone before dialing the extension. 

The line rang for a minute before Dick talked into the receiver. “Colonel Trevor, it’s Agent Grayson.” 

Colonel Trevor’s voice garbled something unintelligible before Dick replied. “The mission last night had a complication, sir. The warehouse blew up. I doubt he was in there, but we should keep an eye out for Neumann.” He groaned as Zatanna treated the burns. “Both Agent Crock and myself were caught in the blast. We survived, but we’ve both been medically advised to rest and recover today.” 

Artemis chewed on her lip. There was no way Colonel Trevor would buy the story. 

“A nurse happened to be close by when the explosion happened, sir. I made sure that Agent Crock went home to rest and I’ll be doing the same shortly. Yes, sir, I understand. I’ll have the report on your desk first thing tomorrow morning. Good bye.” 

She took the receiver from him and settled in in the cradle. “He bought it?” 

He nodded in response. “He wasn’t happy, but you can’t argue with medical professionals.” 

“Smart man you’ve got, Artemis.” Zatanna winked at her. “Okay, you’re all set. Don’t move around too much, and avoid sleeping on your back.” 

“Yes ma’am. And as much as I hate to, I should get home just in case Colonel Trevor calls. I’ll see you tomorrow, gorgeous.” Dick stood and pecked a kiss to Artemis’ cheek. He gingerly donned his coat and hat and walked out the door. 

“Your turn.” Zatanna folded her arms. 

*~* 

A gravelly laugh filled Artemis’ ears as she put distance between her father’s exploding sport’s equipment and herself. 

“What’s the matter baby girl, losin your touch?” Lawrence “Sportsmaster” Crock stood over her, hockey mask firmly in place. 

“Hardly.” She stood brushing off bits of debris from her trousers. 

“What brings you here?” He folded his arms over his barrel chest. “I know you’re not going to bring me in single handed. Couldn’t if you tried.” 

Artemis took a deep breath. _Don’t rise to the taunts._ “I’m here to offer you a deal.” 

“And what kind of deal could you possibly offer that would be worth my time?” 

She could almost see the quirk of an eyebrow under his mask. She straightened and leveled him with a glare. “I know you have information about what’s going on around here. I need to know about a base near Krueth, Germany. Get me that information and I’ll make sure that Checkmate looks the other way while you’re here.” 

“What’s so important that you’d undermine your heroic organization?” 

“It’s nothing.” She snapped and averted her gaze. 

“They’ve got someone you care about, don’t they?” Her father closed the gap between them. 

_Don’t back down._ “Yes, and I want to get them back. Now will you help me or do I inform Checkmate that I know _exactly_ where you are?” 

He shifted his weight between feet. “I’ll see what I can find out. If it’s what I’m thinking, it ain’t good for your ‘friend.’” 

Her heart sank. That’s exactly what she was afraid of. She nodded her head and walked away, trying to keep her emotions in check. 

Walking through the nearly deserted streets of the city, she fought to keep her composure. She had a fairly good handle on it by the time she reached the safehouse. Of course that all came crashing down as soon as she climbed through the window. Guy Gardner had his feet propped up on her bed, his boots spreading mud across the clean blanket. 

“Looks like someone had a late night rendezvous.” He smirked putting his arms behind his head. 

“I’m assuming there’s a reason you’re here with your dirty boots on my bed?” She closed the window and stomped down on the urge to toss his ass out of the chair. 

“Yeah...there is sweet cheeks. See I wanted to check at the source before I up and call the Colonel all the way out here. You and Grayson have gotten awfully cozy lately. I’ve seen the way you two slink off when you think no one’s watching. Getting all lovey dovey a block away from HQ.” 

“You’re delusional, Guy.” She pushed past him. 

He grabbed her arm and pressed her into the wall. “Nah, I know what I saw. Now give me a reason I shouldn’t call Colonel Trevor.” 

Her breath caught in her chest. She didn’t have a plausible excuse, not even an outlandish one. “Go ahead and call him, since you think I’m guilty of something.” 

He scowled as he released her and stomped out of the room. 

As soon as the latch clicked, her knees gave way. The sobs she’d been trying to push down for the last couple of days worked their way up her throat, robbing her breath. There was no argument about it, this was the end of her career. 


	8. Floating Like a Barrage Balloon

**CHAPTER 8**

  
  


Dick spluttered, the white light that flooded his sight fading into sickly yellow. Moments passed, thoughts coming in bursts and flashes, comprised of here-centered confusion and panic. 

_Where am I — what’s happening —_

He flailed, his breath gagging in his raw, aching throat, the inbreaths coming too fast and hard to allow his body to catch up. His arms failed to move, the wrists aflame with pain, the muscles in his limbs clenched so tightly they felt made of solid, quaking metal. 

Muttering in muffled German surrounded him, whispering an inkling of where he was into his consciousness. His blurred sight sluggishly cleared, revealing the concrete and stone room in the Nazi compound. His awareness returned, and he thrust his head — which they’d shaved — back against the plank that held him in its bonds. He issued a furious, wrenching groan through his clenched teeth. 

This was the third time they had submersed him in freezing water, leaving him to succumb to the cold until his heart stopped, then pulled him out to revive him. He had no idea what was in the injections they’d been giving him to force him back to life after hurling him over the threshold of death time and again, but he doubted they were in any way good for his health. There was no amount of screaming or escape artistry that could assist him now — he was attended to by a constant stream of scientists and officers, all of them taking shifts to hover around him like a chorus in a Greek tragedy. All efforts he made were thwarted when the three scientists Dick came to know as the helms of this experiment came down on him like stern, glacial colossi and continually secured and reestablished his bonds. 

He lay frustrated and desperate to no end, his face turned away from the scientists, dragging in one breath and releasing it, then chasing that breath with another. He worked his wrists with increasing fervor, writhing them until he couldn’t tell if they were wet from the water or if they had begun to soak in blood. All the while, the Nazis bustled about him, murmuring in their hushed German and occasionally poking and prodding at him in an effort at God knows what. He focused only on doing what he could to free his hands.

He didn’t know whether his legs would carry him. They hadn’t treated his injuries, and neither had they fed him. Daily his pain remained, and if anything, grew. His hunger and thirst consumed his body from the inside out, robbing him of his strength and reflexes. The only thing that animated his rapidly weakening muscles was the image of Artemis’ face that he held onto with every ounce of his determination. These monsters could take his strength, his vitality, his hair, his life, even — but they could not take _that_ from him.

He hadn’t given them any information, and not singly out of sheer stubbornness and loyalty to his cause. More simply put, even if reality ground to a halt and he _had_ opted to talk, they wouldn’t have gotten much from him — he was so _cold_ on that plank that he could barely string two syllables together to craft even simple words through teeth that were sometimes clattering, sometimes clenched so that he feared they would break. 

And at this point, Dick suspected they no longer gave a damn about information — vials and syringes abounded now, all of them pumping him full of serums that were utterly unknown to him. Possibly it pertained to his lack of “the gene,” whatever that _gene_ might have been — and he had no idea if they were related to _Project Sturm._ Whatever they were intended to do before and after the Nazis revived him following the dips in the icy water, he could only hazard a guess here and there insofar as his frantic, racing brain would allow. 

He amped his efforts at freeing his wrists from his bonds when the lead scientist on duty said, in German, “ _Dip him again.”_ He bellowed when the syringe entered the flesh at the crook of his arm, missing the vein in his struggle. The assistant swore at him and two more appeared to hold his arm in hamfisted grips. This time, the needle hit its mark, and in a flash of spots that overtook his vision in a blinding sun, he felt the bitter grip of the water as it swallowed his body.

  
  


~*~

  
  


Dick about bounced along the sidewalk in Liverpool, his feet all but leaving the ground. The weight in his pocket did nothing to anchor him as he strode arm-in-arm with Artemis. He was nervous more than excited — and he honestly had no idea as to what possessed him to undergo this madcap plan of his.

 _Well, there’s a very real possibility that you could die tomorrow, so seize the day, right? Carpe that diem,_ the more existential part of his brain reminded him as he caught sight of the barrage balloons hovering overhead. He took a breath, considering the next phase of his plan.

“You seem sprightly,” Artemis observed. “Well, sprightlier than normal. Or… nervous?”

“Who said anything about being nervous?” Dick said, grinning at her. “I’m _never_ nervous.”

“That’s why you’re also never careful,” she chuckled. “And the reason for my never-ending spikes in blood pressure.”

He laughed, and taking hold of her hand, lifted it to drop a kiss on her knuckles. 

“Look at those city lights,” Dick said as they sat upon the edge of a fountain. 

“A pretty target for German bombers,” Artemis said. 

He snorted. “Now, now, don’t be so pessimistic. This time tomorrow we’ll be _far_ away from here, enjoying the luck of the Irish.”

She smiled at him. “This is true. Is it… wrong I’m looking forward to just having some time to breathe? And… enjoy the immense pleasure of your company without any danger of Gardner popping up around every corner like a deranged Jack-in-the-box?” 

He laughed. “It’s not wrong at all, beautiful.”

She huffed a bit, but her cheeks colored prettily and she smiled. He turned to face her, and laying his hands on her slim waist, drew her closer to him. She wore her best dress, one of black silk with a perfectly fitted princess bodice that enhanced the shape of her defined clavicles. Her blonde waves were pinned back on one side with a sparkling clip, her lips a vibrant coral. They had left the dance in the city in favor of taking the air, and Dick had wanted to get to this part of the evening, anyway. He leaned in and kissed her, losing himself a moment in the feeling of her lips on his.

“You know, speaking of that,” Dick said, drawing back, his heart now hammering so profoundly it reverberated through the whole of his form. “I have a question about the upcoming trip.”

She nodded. “Shoot.”

He smiled at her. “You know I’ve loved you from the moment I mistook you for a secretary like a total dope, Artemis Crock —”

She inclined her head. “You do know that’s the first time you’ve used that term.”

“What, dope?” he asked. 

She laughed. “Love, you dope.”

“Oh, right,” he said. “Well. It’s how I feel, Artemis. I love you with all my heart and soul.”

She smiled, the color in her cheeks deepening. “You waste no time, Agent Grayson.”

“I refuse to deny the calls of my heart, Agent Crock,” he said, leaning in to kiss her again. “That being said, I love you.”

Her lips turned up against his. “I love _you,_ Richard Grayson.”

He withdrew a bit, and held her hands between them. “So, I’ve now said it. I love you, have loved you since the first second I saw you, and will love you until my end of days.” 

“It’s getting serious, then,” she laughed. 

“As serious as serious can get,” he agreed. His face heated, and then he inwardly screamed when she turned away, looking up at the sky. A plane passed overhead, thankfully nothing more than a pilot for the RAF. Artemis watched as it arched across the dark expanse of the sky, and Dick took the opportunity to take a knee in front of her. He hurriedly removed one hand from hers to dig in his pocket.

She turned back to him, noticing that he had shifted, and her eyes went saucer-wide to see him kneeling in front of her, an engagement ring extended in his free hand. 

“Before anything can follow that plane overhead, Artemis Crock,” he said, “will you do me this honor and marry me?”

She stared in silence, her eyes enormous in her face. There was an agonizing moment of noiselessness that stretched for what felt a lifetime as she eyed the ring, then met his gaze.

“Dick…” she said. “Are you doing this because you’re scared the blitz will blast us away into outer space at any second?”

“I’m doing this because I love you and want to spend my life with you — however long or short that might be,” he said. 

“I…” She faltered, and lowered her gaze. “Dick, listen. I’ll tell you now I’ve never felt this way about anyone in all my life, but…”

His heart sank. “But…?”

She took both his hands in hers. “Come sit back on the fountain with me a second.”

Dick’s heart continued in its descent until it wound up somewhere in the vicinity of his shoes. His face grew hotter, but not because of excitement now. 

“I… need to think about this. Okay?” she said. “I just… don’t want to rush into anything. I made a promise to myself when I entered into Checkmate that I wouldn’t even _notice_ a man, let alone allow myself to be courted by one. And then I met you, and…” She sighed. “Dick, none of my goals for my life will change how I feel about you — or the fact that I’m willing to work them around you. But I… I need _time_ to decide how I’m going to do that.”

He nodded, and tried not to show his dismay. It was difficult not to feel understanding alongside his significant disheartenment — it was no secret to him how hard Artemis had worked to get to where she was, and for as much as he loved her and wished to spend his life by her side, he didn’t want to fulfill his own desires in a way that sacrificed or endangered her own. He took a breath, and squeezed her hands. 

“Hold onto that ring for me until tomorrow morning,” she murmured. “I promise I’ll have made my decision then.”

Again, he nodded, and pocketed the ring. 

A moment of quiet, loud with each other’s unvoiced thoughts, passed between them. Dick struggled to light on something to say, but failed with each effort. Artemis didn’t meet his gaze, and nor did he meet hers. 

Finally, Artemis broke the silence. “We should head back to the hotel. The boat leaves early tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah, you’re right.”

As they walked to the hotel, Dick had time to iron out his thoughts into a tolerably smooth surface. He took a breath, and laid a hand on hers where it rested on his arm. 

“Artemis, listen,” he said, and she looked up at him. “I understand where you’re coming from, and… I’m sorry I sprang this on you. I probably should have at least waited until the war was over and the risk was less —”

“Oh, Dick, that’s not what I was trying to say,” she told him. “I’m just locked in some internal conflict of emotions over it, is all. I need some time to get my head on straight before I make my choice.”

He paused, slowing in his steps. “...I don’t want you to have to do anything that makes you feel conflicted. I know how hard you’ve fought to get to where you are, and I don’t want to jeopardize any of that for you. I just —” 

“Dick,” she said with a half-smile. “Did it occur to you that I might think you’re _worth_ a little internal conflict and some sacrifice here and there? And that what I choose to risk and sacrifice is just that — _my_ choice?”

He stood unspeaking a moment, taken aback. Then, he chuckled. “A fair point.”

She rose up, and kissed his lips. “Let me think on it. That’s all I ask.”

He smiled, feeling marginally better now, and kissed her back. “I can facilitate that much.”

They walked the rest of the way to the hotel in comfortable quiet, parting ways in the hall with a kiss goodnight to head to their respective rooms.

Six sleepless hours later, some time before he was even due to rise, a knock fell on Dick’s door. His heart banged as he rose from the squeaky hotel cot. He cracked the door to see Artemis standing in the hall, wearing her dressing gown, her hair pinned up in soft coils. He opened the door a little more, remaining somewhat behind its surface, mindful of the fact that he wore only a pair of boxer shorts and a tee.

“Morning, glory,” she said with a dry smile. “Care for some very early coffee?”

“Hi,” he said. “Uh… sure, you want to come in?”

“Before I do,” she said, “I would like to tell you something.”

He gazed at her, waiting for her to go on.

“Yes,” she said. “As in… yes, I will marry you.”

Heedless now of his half-dressed state, he opened the door the rest of the way, drew her to him, and kissed her — his grin so wide it threatened to break his face into two pieces.

  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  



	9. Heart and Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's out of the frying pan and into the fire for our dear Artemis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there everyone!  
> If you celebrate Christmas, I hope you had a good one! And here's to a dumpster fire free new year! As a bit of a challenge, see if you can spot the Muppet Christmas Carol reference in the story. I have absolutely nothing to offer as a reward, but it's nice to see if anyone enjoyed the same movies I did as a kid. 
> 
> Kudos and Comments are always loved and it makes our little writer hearts happy :D  
> Love you all!  
> AJ

Artemis tossed and turned all night. Guy’s threat to call Colonel Trevor echoed in her head, then when she finally managed to get her attention focused elsewhere, she’d think of Dick and how she missed having him close. Despite being married for about a week, they’d spent nearly every evening they could in each other's company. He’d been a calm and reassuring presence to balance out all the trouble she had to deal with from the rest of the Checkmate agents. 

The sun peeked through the blinds in her small room of their safehouse. She sat up, stretching her arms over her head until her back popped. So much for getting a good night’s sleep. From the sounds of things, she was the only one up at this hour. Mostly likely she was the only one who lost sleep over the whole situation. Gardner sure hadn’t. He was snoring away outside the door. She rolled her eyes as she got dressed for the day. She made sure to get as close to the Military ideal of precision as she could, maybe then Colonel Trevor would be more inclined to at least hear her out. Everything was going well, until she slid a stocking up her leg. A run that took up the majority of the silk stared at her. She heaved a sigh, kohl pencil it was then. She sat on the edge of her bed, drawing a careful line up the back of her leg so it at least looked like she had stockings on. This day just kept getting better and better. 

Artemis exited the room and set about making coffee in the small kitchen. She’d need her wits about her if she needed to defend herself from a possible court martial. Facing it in the broad light of day made it seem that much more ridiculous. She wouldn’t even have to steel her nerves if Gardner hadn’t decided he was the only one worthy of her affections. Once Dick was back and safe, she was going to give Guy Gardner a piece of her mind. She hoped he choked on it. 

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. _Let’s get it over with._

“Colonel Trevor, Miss Prince.” Artemis nodded as she cracked the door to let them inside. 

“Agent Crock. I assume you know why we’re here?” Colonel Trevor took his hat off once he was inside. 

She nodded. “Yes sir.” 

Diana crossed the small living area to the dining room. Bullock stumbled out, stuffing his shirt into his trousers. 

“Wha’s goin’ on out here?” He cast his sleepy gaze over Artemis and Colonel Trevor. 

“Miss Prince and I need to have a word with Agent Crock.” Trevor folded his arms. “I’m sure I can trust you to keep everyone else out here.” 

“Yes sir.” 

Colonel Trevor motioned for Artemis to go before him. “Agent Crock.” 

“There’s coffee in the percolator, Bullock,” she nodded to him. Her heart sank as the door closed them in. _Here goes my career._

Diana sat across the table from Artemis. “Please tell us what your relationship with Agent Grayson is.” 

Artemis took a deep breath. “Agent Grayson and I have been romantically involved with each other for the last six months. He proposed the first night of our leave, I accepted and we married the next day in Ireland.” 

Colonel Trevor cleared his throat. “And you did this knowing full well that Checkmate does not permit agents to see each other romantically.” 

“Yes, sir.” Her stomach churned. She couldn’t even look him in the eye. 

“I’m glad you were at least honest with us.” He rested his arms on the table. “Given Agent Gardner’s track record, you would have been within your right to refute his claim. It would have made less of a headache for the rest of us, too.” 

“I couldn’t lie, sir.” 

A hand rested on her arm. “It is a noble thing to speak the truth when it is inconvenient to do so.” 

Artemis looked up into Diana’s piercing blue eyes. “Thank you, Miss Prince.” 

“Once this mission is over, you will bury yourself under a mountain of paperwork until such time as a court martial can be convened.” Colonel Trevor pushed back from the table and stood. “Now, I have to contact headquarters and figure out how to proceed with Grayson considered MIA.” 

“You’re not going to retrieve him?” She shot to her feet, upending the chair she’d sat on. 

“That has not yet been decided, Agent Crock, or should I say Mrs. Grayson? I would suggest you control any future outbursts, lest General Armstrong use it against you.” 

Artemis opened her mouth to protest, but before she could utter a sound someone pounded on the door. 

“Who the hell is that?” Colonel Trevor stormed into the living area. 

Bullock stepped back from the door as a well-dressed and imposing man crossed the threshold, followed by a boy. 

“Bruce Wayne, it’s my understanding that my foster son was with this unit.” The imposing man closed the door. 

“And I’m supposed to believe that Brucie Wayne traveled all the way to Nazi-occupied Austria to keep tabs on his brat?” Gardner leaned against the door frame. He held a cigar in his hand and expelled noxious smoke into the small room. 

“Mr. Wayne.” Artemis stepped forward, shooting a look at Gardner. “Di-Richard, was on a mission behind enemy lines. We have reason to believe he’s been taken captive.” 

“Is that so?” Bruce turned to her. “And who might you be?” 

“Artemis Crock, agent in charge of this field office and a close friend of your son.” She held her hand out to him. 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Bruce shook her hand. 

“She’s also married to him.” Colonel Trevor cast a sideways glance in her direction. 

Gardner choked, his face turning red. “She what?” 

“Whoa, Dickiebird got married?” The boy next to Bruce stared at Artemis with wide eyes. 

“I see. Colonel Trevor, if I might have a word with you regarding Richard?” 

Bullock ushered Artemis and Diana to the kitchen. “Pardon us, ladies, boring battlefield stuff and all that.” 

Diana raised an eyebrow. “Agent Bullock must be unaware the Themyscirans are a race of immortal women warriors.” 

Artemis sank into a chair at the table. “Most of the men around here think women faint at the sight of blood. Never mind the fact that I’ve been one of the best agents Checkmate has ever seen. Not that it matters much, any more.” 

Diana sat across from her. “What makes you say that?” 

“My career is over. Checkmate was one of the few organizations willing to take a chance in assigning me to field work. But now that I broke their rules, they’ll want me to stay home like a good woman who is only fit to cook and clean.” Tears pricked her eyes. 

“The men here do have an interesting way of viewing a woman’s value. Do not be cowed by them. You have the heart of a great warrior, much like your namesake.” 

“How do you do it?” Artemis leaned back in her seat. “It’s not exactly a secret that you and Colonel Trevor are together, but no one questions your ability to fight.” 

“I am also not a part of Checkmate while Steve is. I stand my ground and hold my head high and refuse to let these men tell me what I can and cannot do. I fight for what I believe in regardless of what they say.” 

Artemis stood and picked up her cup from earlier. “Coffee?” 

“Sure thing.” The boy who’d trailed Bruce spoke up from the doorway. 

“Did you come to tell me what they decided to do?” She leaned against the counter. 

“Nah, Bruce gets—testy if a plan is even remotely dangerous.” The boy rolled his eyes as he plopped into a chair. “So you married Dick, huh?” 

“I should make sure there is someone in that room with some modicum of self-preservation.” Diana stood. “Remember what I said, refuse to back down. Fight for what’s precious to you.” 

Artemis stared into her cup as Diana left the room. She could feel the boy’s gaze on her. She stole a peek from under her eyelashes. Dick and the kid looked similar, despite their non-relation. Calculating blue eyes, dark hair, though Dick’s skin tone was darker. “In answer to your question…” 

“Jason.” He made his way over to her and grabbed a cup from the cabinet. “Bruce dragged me out of bed at 5 this morning, I need the caffeine.” 

“Dick’s mentioned you a few times. He said he missed you and Alfred the most.” 

Jason poured coffee into his cup before adding sugar and cream. “He always was the sentimental type. Even if him and Bruce weren’t exactly getting along when I showed up.” 

She had to laugh. “He is a sentimentalist, all right. And it’s good to see that no one else in the family shares his addiction to sugar.” 

“I think the only people who do share that are the ones who make candy for a living.” 

“How did you end up with Bruce, Dick never really mentioned it.” She took a sip of the rapidly cooling liquid. 

“Tried stealing the tires off the Batmobile. Batman dumped me on Bruce and the rest, as they say, is history.” Jason shrugged as he returned to the table. 

“Gutsy. Not many people would dare risk the Batman’s wrath.” 

“You know about him?” 

Artemis moved back to the table and sat facing the windows. “I’m from Gotham. My mother is still there, actually.” 

“Huh. You never did answer my question.” He folded his arms. 

“No, I didn’t answer your question, and yes, I did marry Dick.” _Here goes a lecture about responsibility._ To her surprise, Jason just nodded. 

“You love him?” 

She bit the inside of her cheek when a shadow crossed the window. “I wouldn’t have risked my job by marrying him if I didn’t.” 

“I mean...being a Wayne heir and all had nothing to do with it?” 

Was this kid seriously accusing her of being a golddigger? “No, it didn’t. In fact, I didn’t even know he was one. Whenever he mentions Bruce, he refers to him as his foster father.” 

“That’s ’cause Dickie is still holding out hope his parents are alive.” Jason scrubbed a hand through his black curls. “That’s actually why we’re here. Bruce has...contacts...all over. One of them found Dick’s parents...they died earlier this year.” 

Artemis’ heart shattered. Dick would be devastated at the news. He’d hoped to find them somehow, and now he would never be able to. “Oh, no...Bruce was seriously going to show up in the middle of a mission to spring that on him?” 

Jason grimaced. “He’s not exactly what you would call the picture of emotional health.” 

“That’s putting it mildly, don’t you think?” 

“Never said I agreed with it, but that’s how Bruce does things. I just get dragged along ’cause he wants to keep an eye on me.” Jason shrugged one shoulder. “I got behind in school ’cause, well, I’d end up running drugs no matter where I went. And if I was in a foster home, the junkie parents took what I got to keep so I’d still be starvin’. It was easier to just disappear, ya know?” 

“Crime alley hasn’t changed at all.” She stood and drained the last of the coffee from her cup. “Thank you for the chat, Jason.” 

“Where are you going?” He turned in his seat. 

“You’ll see. It was nice to have met you.” She left, making a beeline for her room. She could hear Colonel Trevor, Gardner, and Bullock shouting from the dining room. She really hoped Bruce and Diana could talk some sense into them. 

Once she closed and locked the door, she slid the window open. Sure enough, a packet was waiting for her, tucked into the narrow ledge. Opening it, she read her father’s familiar scrawl telling her where Dick was and what to expect at the facility. She swallowed back the bile rising in her gut. 

She changed into the dark clothes she’d worn the night before and pinned her blonde waves back into a braid. The less distractions she had, the better. With grim determination, she left the sanctuary of her room and stalked toward the door. 

“Agent Crock, where do you think you’re going?” Colonel Trevor’s voice stopped her. 

Her hand twisted the knob on the door and yanked it open. “I’m going to get my husband back.” 


	10. A Rose Is a Rose

**CHAPTER 10**

  
  


Dick couldn’t hang onto much, just glimpses of things that seemed to have occurred in a whole different universe. His limbs would no longer move when he commanded them to. Every breath he took came weaker and slower. His heart guttered and snapped into palpitations, these pitiful imitations of heartbeats seizing his chest in a hot, tight fist. His physical sight had grown limited to two things — the sickly lights of the compound blurred by flurries of motion from the team of scientists around him, and barren darkness.

In these stretches of darkening sight, Dick struggled to keep his mental grip on images of Artemis, memories of her and conjurings of her essence. It was a daily battle that he waged against his captors — one-sided, but all important. If he could just keep her close in this way, he might hold onto his life through this ordeal, and moreover, his very self.

The swallow of the icy water engulfed his body once more, and Dick inhaled, focusing hard on honing his consciousness on Artemis — as he always did until the world faded away.

  
  


~*~

  
  


“Look. Primroses,” Artemis said, pointing to a growth of yellow blooms that lined the path. 

Dick shifted his gaze, and smiled. “Spring has sprung.”

She nodded, keeping her eye on the flowers. Dick gazed at her blonde head, the waves shining a rich gold to match the blossoms. Nearby, a stream chattered through the shoots of green and yellow, the water a sparkling slate beneath the blue sky. He laid a hand on hers where it rested on his arm.

“Are you okay, Dick?” Artemis asked momentarily. “You’re uncustomarily quiet. In fact, I’m starting to wonder if you’re a spy who happens to _look_ an awful lot like my Richard Grayson, transplanted here by Gardner to blow the lid off our cover.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it. “Just… thinking about my mom. She loved primroses. She kept them in pots and my dad used to say it was magic, how she kept them alive inside.” He paused, grimacing. “The night the Nazis raided the camp… Jack told me they smashed all her pots. I… hope she didn’t see that happen. She loved her plants — they were her favorite hobby.”

Artemis moved closer to him as they walked, slowing their pace. “I know you miss her. And your dad.”

Dick nodded. “Dad always said he couldn’t smell primroses without thinking of Mom. When I was a kid I didn’t really understand that — they were always around, so I guess I never had to _try_ to understand it.” He paused in their walk, and took a breath of the light, citrusy scent of the blooms nearby them. “I get it now. Every time I smell them walking through this area of the park… it reminds me of both of them.” 

Artemis turned to face him, and wrapped both arms around him. 

“I’d normally be more careful than this,” she murmured to him, “but I think you need one of these.”

He nodded, and clutched her close, absorbing the comfort of her nearness and the sense of peace she instilled in him. 

“Thank you, Artemis,” he said, pulling back after a time. 

She nodded. “Of course.” She laced her arm through his, and they continued walking.

“Dick,” she said some moments later. 

“Hmm.”

“We’ll find your parents,” she said. “I swear it. And I’ll do everything in my power to see them found. You have my word.”

Dick, again, came to a halt. A lump had grown in his throat, widening to a painful breadth. 

“You’ll meet them,” he said finally. “And they’ll love you.”

Artemis smiled up at him. “I hope so.”

He smiled back at her, feeling somehow soothed, his confidence bolstered.

“They will.”

Some days later, as Dick opened the door to his flat, he inclined his head.

A potted primrose rested on the windowsill facing the threshold. Approaching it, he lifted the card folded at the base.

  
  


_Dick,_

_I hope you’re not upset that I used my expert lockpicking to help myself to the interior of your humble flat. But I want you to have this to think of your mother by until the day comes you can give it over to her and the two of you can look after it together._

_~Artemis_

  
  


Dick was surprised to feel warmth touch his cheeks — tears dripping from his lashlines. He smiled, and held the note to his forehead, then inhaled the aroma from the little pink and yellow blossoms planted in the pot. 

When he saw Artemis next at their little hole in the wall meeting spot, he kissed her long and deep — and held her for so long the sun began to dip overhead.

  
  


~*~

  
  


When Dick opened his eyes, his breath came fast and deep, filling his lungs with a burning heat. His heart pistoned in his chest, a hammer pounding a _whomp-whomp-whomp_ rapidfire against his ribs. His limbs were cold and shivering, but there was a fire in his body that bombed all the way into his head, smearing his vision with a white-hot, pulsating _rage._

It couldn’t be contained, this inhuman, supernatural anger. His teeth ground to near cracking, and his voice sheared his throat as a growl rose into a scream. His fists dug his nails into the palms of his hands. He thrashed against his restraints, the only thing mattering in that moment his unrestrainable fury. Humanoid forms passed in and out of his field of view — forms that begged him to _destroy_ them, _wreck_ them, _ruin_ them, by whatever means necessary. Who they were meant nothing — beyond the innate knowledge that _they_ had wronged him in some way, that his rage had to be sated on them, that there was no other recourse open to him. He ripped at the straps that bound his wrists, the temper amplifying when his legs refused to obey his commands. Dick could _hear_ that he was screaming, the timbre of his voice ragged and echoing off the walls of the stone room.

“ _Ausgezeichnet,”_ reverberated dimly through his red-shrouded awareness. The sound only infuriated him further, and he fought his bonds with mounting desperation. 

The strains of red and black and screaming blended into a bizarre not-time, the passage of minutes and hours no longer real to him. Things flitted in and out of his rage-smoked consciousness, like birds darting in and out of trees. All he knew was the intense, flaming _need_ to release the anger on something, _anything._

There was shouting, screaming; it melded with the sound of his own voice, which carried a hoarseness now in its continued abuse. There was a commotion around him that he couldn’t define through the blinding veil that shrouded his senses, and then, the feeling of tugging at his restraints. 

Dick pushed and pulled, jerking atop the slab, struggling to free himself. 

_Hang on, hang on, you’re almost out, you’re almost free —_

The straps came loose, and he burst away from the gurney. As his weight buckled beneath his injured legs, he flung his arms out and wrapped his hands around the first thing that came to him — a soft, long neck, the blonde hair tangling in his fingers under his grip.

  
  
  



	11. It Don't Mean A Thing If It Ain't Got That Swing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> I hope your Wednesday finds you well. I really don't have a whole lot to say. There is some expected violence in this chapter. Other than that, Enjoy!

Artemis peered around a corner in the Nazi facility. Her husband was somewhere in this building and she’d be damned if she left without him. She shifted forward to continue the rescue, when a hand on her wrist pulled backward. She whipped her head behind her to see Jason, Dick’s kid brother, hanging on for dear life. 

“What is wrong with you, let me go!” She tried to shake him off. 

He didn’t budge. “Let B take care of it.” 

“I have military training, what makes playboy Brucie Wayne think he’s better suited to this?” 

“He’s got this covered, you should stay here.” Jason’s teal colored eyes bored into her. 

“Like hell, kid.” She moved to sneak down the hall. Arms flung around her waist. “Look, I’m not some wilting flower, I’m from Gotham, too. I may not be a Narrows-bred street rat, but I can hold my own. So unless you want to alert the enemy that you’re here, I suggest you let. Go.” 

“It’s not—look, I know you can hold your own, otherwise Dickie wouldn’t have risked his job to marry ya. But B made me swear that I’d keep you safe back here.” Jason still held onto her, his voice pitching higher with his pleas. 

She didn’t want to hit him to make him let go. She’d been on the receiving end of that too many times in her life. “I’m going out there and if I have to drag you as I go, I will. I don’t want to because that’ll let everyone know where we are and we’ll end up in the same trouble Dick’s in.” 

Jason muttered something under his breath. 

She pinched her nose. “What was that, kid?” 

He scowled up at her. “My name is Jason, not kid. And fine, but you get to explain why things went sideways.” 

Finally, progress. “I’m an adult, I can handle things. You following, k-Jason?” 

He threw his hands in the air. “Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.” 

Artemis peeked around the corner again, double-checking it was clear. She sneaked toward the research labs, the notes from her father indicated he’d be in one of those. _The only time in my life I’ve ever wanted to thank him for his work._

The door immediately to her left stood ajar and she figured it was as good a place as any to start. 

She poked her head inside. 

A doctor—at least she assumed he was from the dingy white lab coat he wore—scribbled on a clipboard and nodded to a soldier. The soldier held up a syringe and moved to a prone figure on a metal table. She narrowed her eyes at the figure, just barely holding in a gasp. The soldier had moved and revealed the figure’s face. 

Artemis straightened and pressed herself against the wall. She covered her nose and mouth with her hand, stifling any sound that dared to spill out. 

“Dickie’s in there.” Jason pressed himself to the wall next to her. 

Artemis nodded. A growl erupted from the room. It started low and pitched higher until it was a scream. 

Artemis dug her fingernails into her palms, anything to keep her from rushing in half cocked. 

She took a deep breath and prayed to whoever was listening that she got the upper hand quickly enough to keep from ending up in the same boat as Dick. 

She kicked the door open. She expected to find the doctor and soldier standing over Dick cackling maniacally. She had not expected to find THE Batman pounding his fist into the doctor’s face while the soldier lay unconscious on the floor. 

Dick fought against the restraints holding him against the table. His screams still echoed around the room. 

Artemis dashed to his side, hands fumbling over the buckles holding the leather in place. “Hang on, hang on, you’re almost out, you’re almost free.” She managed to free his ankles and his wrists. 

As soon as the straps dropped away he was off the table. When he tried to stand, his legs collapsed under him. 

She reached out to steady him, only to find a wild and unfocused gaze. “Dick?” 

His hands closed around her throat and squeezed. 

Black spots danced at the edge of her vision. She punched him in the solar plexus, hoping it would incapacitate him long enough to listen. 

The pressure at her throat eased. 

She knocked his hands away as he struggled to catch his breath. She grabbed his face in her hands. “Dick it’s me, Artemis. Your wife.” 

She searched his eyes. The wild look was still there. 

His teeth bared in a snarl as he kicked the inside of her leg. 

A tendon behind her knee snapped and sent white bolts of pain through her right side. She fell to the concrete floor with a cry. 

Before she could put distance between them, he was on her. His fingers digging into her throat. 

She gasped in a ragged breath. “Dick please. Come back to me!” 

He sucked in a lungful of air and stared at her. 

His fingers went slack. “A-Arty?” 

Before she could say anything, his eyes rolled back in his head. He collapsed on top of her jostling her knee. 

“Dick?” Her hands smoothed over his shoulders and found a feathered dart sprouting from the back of his neck. 

Batman moved into her field of vision—because of course he was here—and lifted Dick into his arms. “Jason,” he growled. It had to have been some form of modulator, he’d have ruined his voice making it that gravelly every night in Gotham. “Help the young lady.” 

Jason slipped inside the room and pulled her to her feet. 

She caught her balance using her brother-in-law for support. “That’s Mrs. Grayson to you.” She tried not to wince at the hoarseness in her own voice. 

The bat’s face was impassive, likely due to the cowl. “There is a car waiting outside, let’s hurry.” 

“I tried to warn you.” Jason helped her limp along. 

“You coulda said Batman was here.” She shot him a look. “I’m glad he was there though. Probably saved all our lives.” 

“He’s finicky about secret identities. But we should probably pick up the pace. I hear jackboots echoing behind us.” 

_This is going to hurt._ She let go of Jason and started to run. Her gait was lopsided, but at least they were moving faster. She’d collapse later, once they were out of danger. 

They burst out of the doors to the facility and sure enough, a jeep waited for them at the treeline. There was just a small field to cross before they got there. 

Her knee gave out completely refusing to hold her. Jason lifted her into his arms, but the poor kid was struggling under her weight. 

She let out a cry when they both tumbled to the ground. 

“Stay here.” He told her before racing off to the jeep. _Like hell I’m staying here._ She scooted along using her arms and her good leg to propel her across the field. 

“Here, let me help.” Batman’s gravelly voice announced as he came up behind her. He lifted her into his arms without incident. 

No sooner had he set her down in the back next to Dick than the soldiers poured out of the doorway. 

Bullets zinged through the air, peppering the side of the jeep. The engine cranked and next thing Artemis knew, they were speeding down the road. 

Once they were out of gun range, Artemis allowed herself to relax. Her knee ached, her husband laid unconscious beside her, and Batman drove them through the German countryside. Six months ago, she’d have laughed if a person told her she’d be in this position. 

She turned to the man behind the steering wheel. “So the Dark Knight, the Batman of Gotham City, is none other than Bruce Wayne?” 

His shoulders slumped. “You’re sworn to secrecy.” 

“In our line of work, I’m sure I know far more dangerous secrets. But yours is safe with me.” She tucked a blanket around Dick’s slender frame. “Thank you for your help.” 

“He’s my son, both of my boys mean the world to me.” Batman looked over his shoulder. “We’ll talk once we’re safe in friendly territory.” 

“Speaking of, are you just going to show up in Austria dressed like a flying rodent?” She raised an eyebrow. “I mean we are trying to be inconspicuous and all.” 

“I like her!” Jason beamed in the front seat. 

*~* 

They’d arrived at the safe house only to turn around and leave again. The Red Cross had a transport leaving for Lichtenstein within a couple hours, Colonel Trevor ordered her to accompany it. From Diana’s conspiratorial wink, Artemis was sure who’d convinced him to let her go. 

The three hour journey over Austria’s mountainous region just about jarred her loose. Checkmate had put a stabilizing brace on her knee, but each time the truck hit a pothole white sparks flashed across her vision. They’d cocooned Dick in blankets and strapped him down to a stretcher in the bottom of the truck. He remained unconscious the entire time. 

The truck squeaked to a halt just before an American soldier with the Red Cross patch emblazoned on his uniform opened the back doors. “Welcome to Eschen. We’ll take you to the hospital Mr. Wayne has requested.” 

Artemis nodded and traced a hand over the column of her throat. Purple splotches had appeared shortly after they’d gotten Dick back to the safehouse. Bullock had chucked an ice bag at her shortly after they’d arrived. She supposed it had helped keep some swelling down, though she still had some trouble swallowing, not to mention she sounded like a completely different person when she talked. 

She stared at the doors they’d wheeled Dick through, panic rolling around in her stomach. 

A hand settled on her shoulder. “I’ve vetted the staff with him, he’s safe.” 

“Can’t help it. The last time I let him out of my sight he was taken captive by Nazi’s who did goodness knows what to him.” She wrapped her arms around herself. _Keep your emotions in check._

Bruce pulled her to his side. “I’m glad he found you, from what I can tell you two balance each other well.” 

Artemis hiccuped as she fought tears that refused to be ignored. 

“What are your plans after you’re both recovered?” Bruce led her to a near by waiting room. 

“I don’t know. I may not even have a career after that. I knowingly entered a relationship with another agent, which is expressly forbidden. I ignored direct orders to stand down and got myself injured in the process.” She lifted a shoulder. 

“And rescued a top agent almost single handedly.” 

Artemis scrubbed at her face. “I had some help.” 

Bruce barked out a laugh. “I doubt Checkmate will believe that the Batman of Gotham City aided you.” 

“How did that happen by the way?” 

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “That is a story for another day and in the privacy of Wayne Manor.” 

“Does he know?” She looked up at him. “I won’t keep secrets from my husband.” 

Bruce leaned in, his breath tickled her ear. “He used to be Robin.” 

Artemis stared at him slack jawed as she lost herself in thought. 

“Family of Richard Grayson?” A nurse stepped into the small area. The three of them stood. 

“That’s us.” Jason announced, as if their attention hadn’t spoken it for him. 

“He’ll be fine. The doctors cleaned the wounds in his legs and made sure to treat the infection. He’ll be groggy for a while, but you can go back and see him now.” 

*~* 

Artemis perched on Dick’s bedside. Stubble pricked at her palm where his thick dark locks used to be. He looked so peaceful as he slept. Apart from slightly leaner quality to his face, he didn't look any different than he had when he’d left her nearly a week ago. 

His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks before parting to reveal cerulean blue eyes. They were clear, slightly confused, but without the rage she’d seen in them last. 

“Artemis?” His voice sounded rough from screaming. 

“Hey there handsome.” She smiled and reached for the cup of water the nurse had left for when he woke up. “Try a drink.” 

He took a few sips and leaned back. “Is this real?” 

“Yeah, you’re safe now.” Tears again sprang unbidden to her eyes. 

His forehead creased and he reached up toward her throat, flinching when she recoiled. “I did that?” 

She bit her lip and nodded. “In your defense, I don’t think you were actually you at the time.” 

“I-I’m so sorry.” He turned his head away from her. 

“I don’t blame you, neither do Bruce or Jason. We’re all just happy you’re alive.” She squeezed his hand. 

His gaze snapped back to her. “They’re here?” 

“Bruce took Jason to get food because he was about to drive everyone crazy, but yeah. The Batman may have helped rescue you, though I’m sworn to secrecy on that front.” Her face split in a grin. 

“He didn’t.” Dick groaned and covered his face with his hands. 

“He did. You’ve been quite the popular man the last week. Even had a Wally West come by to say hello in Austria.” 

“How’d he end up there?” Dick sat up and propped himself against the headboard. 

“Said he was stationed in Lichtenstein, probably not too far from where we’re at now, truth be told, and said he wanted to rush by with a hello.” She shrugged. “Almost got himself stabbed with a pencil.” 

“In my defense, I did just want to say hi.” A voice announced from the doorway. 

“K-Wally.” Dick grinned at the redhead. “You follow me or something?” 

Before Artemis could blink, Wally was standing at Dick’s bedside. “Or something. Got drafted, and Checkmate learned about my...special skills...and put me to work as a messenger.” 

“‘Special skills,’ how many heroes do you know?” Artemis swatted Dick’s shoulder. 

Wally looked between the two of them. “You told her?” 

Dick shook his head. “She must have just figured it out on her own but Batman showing up probably helped. And while I’m at it, may I introduce my wife. Artemis.” 

Wally sputtered. “Wife? When did that happen?” 

“Right before we shipped here from London. We were on leave in Ireland and were recalled the night we got married.” Artemis draped an arm over Dick’s shoulders. 

Wally held out a hand. “Nice to officially meet you, Mrs. Grayson. And may I say welcome to an elite group of people. Kid Flash at your service.” 


	12. Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> So here we are at the end. Posting this is a bit of a bittersweet experience because I don't want it to end. As always we love to hear your comments! 
> 
> I HIGHLY recommend following EF's works if you don't already. She's an absolutely a-freaking-mazing author. (I've been a fangirl of hers for a while).

Artemis walked into Dick’s hospital room to find him staring blankly out the window. Bruce had asked her to take Jason to a pastry shop down the street so he and Dick could talk. _Talk...yeah...couldn’t you have given him some time to recuperate first?_ As intimidating as Bruce could be, both as himself and the Great Bat of Gotham City, all she wanted to do in the moment was plant her fist into his perfect playboy face. 

“Hey there, handsome,” she said. She kept her tone soft to keep from startling Dick. 

He didn’t move for a moment. A perfect marble statue perched at the edge of his bed. 

“Bruce found my parents.” When he turned, his eyes and nose were red. The fight she’d grown so accustomed to raging beneath the surface was gone. 

She perched beside him and took his hand in hers. “I know, Jason blurted it out after they showed up at the safehouse.” 

Tremors wracked his frame as he dissolved into sobs. 

She pulled him close as a fresh wave of grief threatened to drown him. “I’ve got you,” she whispered and placed a featherlight kiss on top of his head. There was no platitude that could help with loss like that, so she didn’t offer one. 

Dick clung to her like a life raft in a stormy sea until hiccups replaced sobs. 

“I’m sorry you had to witness that.” His face was buried in the crook of her neck and it muffled his voice. 

“I can handle your grief, Dick.” She rubbed her hand in soothing circles over his back. “I thought you might need a pick me up. So I smuggled in some coffee, just the way you like it, half sugar and half coffee.” 

That earned her a wet laugh. “Thank you, Arty.” 

“You’re welcome.” She adjusted herself on the bed to take pressure off her still healing knee. “I’ve also got mail from HQ. It’s addressed to both of us.” 

Dick settled against the headboard of the bed. “Might as well get it over with.” 

She bit her lip. “I can wait if you need some time to process.” 

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Why prolong the agony?” 

“If you insist.” She tore open the seal and unfolded the paper. 

_Mr. and Mrs. Grayson, due to injuries sustained in the field, you are both hereby on medical leave for six weeks. At that time, you will both report to the London office for a court-martial. You will appear before a military judge and a jury of your peers on a charge of fraternizing with a fellow agent._

_General Armstrong_

*~* 

Artemis twisted the claddagh ring on her finger. It had become a nervous habit in the last couple of weeks, one she needed to train herself out of. 

Dick grabbed her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “Take a deep breath, beautiful. Whatever they decide, I’m with you.” 

“Easy for you to say. You’ve got Bruce and a guaranteed career when this is all over.” Her heart pounded against her ribs. She froze when the all too familiar sensation of ants crawling over her skin registered. 

“Arty?” 

“I can’t be a secretary,” she whispered. 

Dick let go of her hand to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll figure it out. Remember, I fell in love with you because of your ambition, not in spite of it.” 

The door to the courtroom opened, revealing an MP. “Mr. and Mrs. Grayson, the judge is ready for you.” 

“Here goes,” Dick nodded as he stood. While he was at least ambulatory again, he still walked with a limp and the assistance of a cane. 

The door closed behind them with an ominous thud. Artemis swallowed against the lump rising in her throat. This was the moment their fate was decided. The moment where she found out if she’d be imprisoned or discharged. 

She approached the bench, holding tight to Dick’s arm. She needed his calm stabilizing presence at her side. 

“Agents Grayson,” the judge fixed a gimlet eye on them. “You’re both well aware of the charges against you, so I will not repeat them. After deliberation, the jury has found you guilty of fraternizing with a fellow agent despite direct orders to the contrary.” 

Artemis’ heart sank to the vicinity of her shoes when the judge cleared his throat. 

“However, due to the impressive testimonies to your character, you will be allowed to maintain your positions within the organization. However, your continued service will be carried out in different departments. I will leave the logistics of the decision to Colonel Trevor, and you will report to him first thing Monday morning. Court dismissed.” 

Dick squeezed her hand. “See, not too bad.” 

“We’re okay.” The air left her lungs in a rush. She wobbled, suddenly unsteady on her feet. 

Strong hands around her arms eased her into a chair. 

Dick’s face swam into focus, his eyebrows drawn together. “Arty?” 

“We’re both still agents.” She let her eyes wander over him where he was crouched in front of her. “That has to be killing your legs.” 

“It doesn’t exactly tickle, but I had to make sure my girl was taken care of.” He flashed that famous brilliant smile at her. 

“I’m perfectly fine.” She reached out for him as she stood. “Let’s go home, shall we?” 

He let a groan slip as he hauled himself up. “Your wish is my command.” 

When they’d reported to Colonel Trevor following the court-martial, Dick had volunteered to man the secretary pool for the time. His reasoning, he’d said, stemmed from an ongoing recovery from his time at the mercy of his Nazi captors. He’d lost some muscle mass that he was still trying to recover and didn’t feel he was up for field missions at the time. What Dick hadn’t told Colonel Trevor was that he was still grieving the loss of his parents which could easily jeopardize any mission. 

With Dick staying at the office, Artemis returned to active duty as one of the best spies in Checkmate’s employ. She had to admit, it was nice being able to walk home arm-in-arm without worrying about Gardner finding them out. In fact since their return to London, the man had gone out of his way to avoid them. 

*~* 

Dick plopped three sugar cubes into his cup of coffee in the Checkmate lounge. Artemis had begged him to at least reduce the amount of sugar he ingested on a daily basis. It was rationed and according to his wife, she needed some of it to cook meals in the evening. 

_If only Alfred could see me now._ Once the war was over, he’d get no end of grief from the old butler and Artemis. Not that he’d trade it for the world. 

A large man opened the door, shaking out his umbrella in the entryway. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to London weather.” 

Dick snorted in laughter, he’d had a similar reaction on his first day. “You will, eventually.” He held out his hand. “Dick Grayson.” 

The man shook it with a firm grip. “Connor Kent, new pawn for the organization.” 

“So you’re the guy taking my place?” Dick raised an eyebrow. Connor wouldn’t be much use as a contortionist, looking more like a brawler than anything else. 

“I guess, they said there was an opening.” Connor shrugged a response. “Where are you going?” 

“Tactics and Strategy Division. Figured I could mete out justice from there.” He studied the man before him. There was something familiar about him. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to Clark Kent?” 

Connor let out a deflated sigh. “Even across the sea I can’t get away from him. He’s my cousin. How do you know him?” 

“I’m from Gotham, he’s interviewed my adoptive father several times.” 

Artemis walked up at that moment and reached between them for a cup of coffee. “Excuse me gentlemen.” 

She wore the same purple cloche hat and Kitty Foyle dress she’d donned on Dick’s first day. When she reached for the sugar cubes, she winked at him. Honestly, the fact that they didn’t have to hide their relationship anymore was a relief. 

Connor cleared his throat. 

Artemis turned to face him and held out a hand. “You must be our newest recruit.” 

“Hi sugar, are you rationed?” He cast a dreamy smile at her. 

“I’ll see you in the bullpen.” She nodded as she walked away. 

Dick covered his laugh with a cough. “Tough luck, she’s taken.” 

Connor shoved his hands into his pockets, red creeping up his neck. “Lucky stiff.” 

“Yeah.” Dick watched his wife with pride swelling in his heart. “Tha’.” 

Artemis stopped by his desk after the morning debrief and laid a stack of folders down. “Ready for your last filing job, Secretary Grayson?” 

“If I never have to crouch in front of those filing cabinets again, it’ll be too soon. I don’t know how the ladies manage in heels.” He picked the folders up and sorted through them as he stood. 

“Because they don’t have a choice.” 

“Are you happy that we don’t have to switch places?” He stooped in front of the cabinet and put the files in their place. 

“Ecstatic.” She moved close to him and slid her arms around his neck. “What made you decide on Strategy and Tactics though?” 

“I figured it was the best way of finding justice for my family and the millions of others in similar situations. This whole ethnic cleansing ideal is...heartbreaking seems too soft a word for it, but that’s what it is.” 

“I think it’s admirable that you’re seeking justice and not revenge.” She ran a hand through his short black hair. 

“Something I learned from the Bat. And to channel anger into something productive.” 

She smiled up at him. “So that was why you were so gung-ho to get back in shape.” 

He leaned down and kissed her. “That and to keep up with my amazing wife.” 

“Oh, and it’s not to make sure that newcomers like Connor know their place?” 

“I just said you were taken, I never said by whom.” Dick walked them to the door. “Let’s go home, Mrs. Grayson.” 

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A final note to say that this has been one of the best experiences of my life. I've loved hearing from you all.
> 
> If historical batfamily AU's interest you, I've got one in the works that I'll be posting soon. 
> 
> Love you all!!  
> AJ


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